Blood Reunion
by lady-ark
Summary: We make our own "Happily Ever After". More than two decades later...
1. Chapter 1

Thank you BioWare for a fantabulous world for us to play in.

My boss does not thank you for the lack of work I got done while this story was filling my head.

**Author Note:**

This story started bubbling up before I was even half way through my first play through of DA:O, and has been re-written fully at least three times as I got further, cemented when I got totally blindsided by my ending.

I know I've set this significantly in the future to indulge some ideas. If you hadn't guessed, I have not played DA2, so bully on me if I don't match up with that timeline ;)

I always write for myself, but nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy this; feedback and corrections are welcome (I've gone over the story at least three dozen times in two different word processors, but I'm only human!).

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><p>She stood on the crest of the hill at the edge of the central camp; behind her was an endless field of trampled mud where the army had been encamped. There wasn't a sound except the harsh rasping of her ragged breathing, each breath visible before her in the cold air. Looking down, she discovered she was barefooted, her shins and feet covered in bleeding cuts and mud. She was wearing her ruined wedding clothes, now covered in smears of mud and blood; the hem was damp and clinging coldly to her legs. Her hair was unbound, the wind causing it to painfully whip against her face.<p>

Around her were the ruins of the central camp in Ostagar, under a layer of ash, mud and snow. Muted by the freezing temperatures, there was still a blanket of that sickly-sweet smell of rot hanging in the air. The silence was unnerving. She could feel eyes watching her, but still nothing was moving except torn rags of flags or tents in the wind.

This was a dream she had relived more than once, usually the same, sometimes different. It felt like one of the latter. Still it's easy to forget as the hollow feelings of loss and failure and helplessness, the guilt at being one of the few who lived, the anger at the loss, all threatened to overwhelm her, so she pushed them down and started on the familiar path. Waking or asleep, familiar weary resignation took over as she picked her way through the ruins, ignoring the stinging pain as the frozen crust of snow added more cuts to her skin.

The wind whistled hollowly as she stepped onto the crumbling bridge spanning the valley. Bodies and broken pieces of the ballista littered the path; she was able to find a short spear in only minor disrepair to use as a walking stick. Every other time, she was unable to wake until she got to the king's body. This time was different. This time, the bridge was empty.

Sighing, she turned and looked out into the valley, hugging herself to keep warm; this high up, the valley looked unmarred and peaceful. As she looked around, the Tower caught her eye and a feeling of dread started itching at the back of her mind. Never before had the dream gone on this quietly for this long.

She made her way across Ostagar to the Tower of Ishal – this was her first time going to the dream-tower. As time is meaningless in dreams, it felt both like she was walking across Fereldan and arriving in an instant. The doors hung open, broken and shattered, and snow had drifted in. Bodies were piled everywhere as she found the stairs and began climbing, leaning heavily on the spear. The tap of the spear handle on the floor was the only sound echoing through the abandoned towers' halls.

She stopped on the landing before the fourth floor and realized she was shaking. "The ogre is dead. We survived." She tried to calm herself; her heart felt like it was going to crush itself against her ribs. Taking a steadying breath she finished the climb and stepped into that familiar room.

The gloom was pushed back by the daylight coming in the large opening to the balcony. The ogre lay rotting where they had killed it. Next to it was the guard she long had forgotten the name of, his body laying unnaturally. His armor was crushed from knee to stomach, the floor stained in ogre and human blood beneath them. She looked around and spotted something blue by the wall. The brave mage who accompanied them was crumpled on the floor, an arm torn off by the monster, scorch marks on the wall around him, and she counted six arrows protruding from the rotting corpse.

She made her way into the blinding light, stepping out onto the balcony. Involuntarily, she cried out, her hand covering her mouth. Lying on their own stained floor was what could only be the bodies of her and Alistair, both were riddled with arrows. Unlike the other dead in various stages of decomposition, they looked as if they only just taken their last breath – even the blood was thick and glistening on the floor.

She staggered, dizzy and unable to catch her breath. A deep throbbing pain radiated from her chest, and she looked down to see two arrows buried in her chest, blossoms of red growing around the shafts. She could feel herself falling; the floor seemed a long way off.

Calitae's eyes snapped open. She lay still, getting her breathing under control, while she used her senses to assess the room around her. The fire had burned out and an autumn chill had crept into the room; the sheet had tangled around her legs. Struggling to put two thoughts in order, she managed to get to her feet and open the shutters; the sky hadn't even started to pale, stars still visible. She rubbed her face and her hands came back damp, she didn't realize she had been crying in her sleep. Steeling herself, she went to get dressed, this was going to make the last day of paperwork miserable.


	2. Chapter 2

"_It's not just a question of obligation, but of blood…"_

Blood. It always comes back to blood.

Blood turning to mud in the streets. Blood running across the stone floor. Blood good enough to accept the taint, to be shed for all of them but not noble enough. Not pure enough. Not _human_ enough.

She couldn't shake the last images from her dream; normally she didn't dream about him. If it had come true she never would have heard those words or felt them cut so deeply. But she also never would have been in a position where they could cause pain. Drops of blood stained the parchment, slowly spreading over the ledgers she had been hunched over for hours now; the quill had snapped and opened a jagged tear in her finger. With her unmarred hand, she rubbed her chest where the blood had been, eyes unseeing.

"This will never do." She heard her steward sigh as he leaned over her shoulder, breaking her maudlin trail of thought.

She leaned back as she stuck the wounded digit in her mouth, frowning, "This is what it's come to; from stopping the Blight, to killing Mother, to going blind staring at ledgers."

Harl bustled around her, clucking his tongue as he handed her a cloth for her finger and gathered up the stacks of papers. "Ser, I think you should get some fresh air. The numbers, while important, can wait, you should dine with the men, let them see their hero."

"You mean the one that is responsible for changing their lives, and arguably not for the better. I will never get used to it." Harl ignored her as he opened the shutters to allow a soft breeze in, now that the papers were safely stored. Her bad moods always preceded her departure and from the look on her face, she hadn't slept well at all.

"I'm still planning on leaving tomorrow, so if there is anything that you direly need me to go over, tell me now; otherwise it's all in your more-capable hands."

He squinted at some of her work and made a face, "No, I think you've wreaked enough havoc on this poor parchment. Leave any special instructions in the drawer as per usual. If our paths don't cross again, Maker be with you and safe journeys to you, Warden." It had been bumpy after the death of Varel, but over the many years, Harl proved to be more than capable and he quickly adapted to the Warden and her absences.

The afternoon meal flew by; simple but filling fare and good company - Harl was no fool in how to cheer her up. She barely touched her food as she was frequently interrupted when fellow Wardens wished her well; she could swear that soldiers gossiped worse than a coven of old maids.

She elbowed the man sitting next to her, "I bet you'll be glad when I'm gone again, eh Commander?"

Osred Ventris was a barrel-chested soldier from Gwaren she found running the garrison after Loghain's death. He was a gifted leader over his soldiers and while not loquacious, he was more than capable at interfacing with the nobles and Weisshaupt.

Ventris' deep laugh boomed in the mess hall, "Not as much as I am glad when I see you return, Tabris. Usually means there are at least a hundred less darkspawn out there for the rest of us." The rest of the table laughed and toasted her.

She rose from her seat, "Gentlemen, I have to find Alder and there's a mountain man I owe a spar to. Until we meet again." She gave them a salute and turned on her heel, about to leave when her name was called out.

"Calitae, are you coming out tonight?" It was Gyfford, a fairly new recruit who still hadn't lost the stars from his eyes when he looked at the Hero of Fereldan.

Laughing as she looked over her shoulder, she gave a half-shrug, "I didn't realize it was that time already - I'll see how my preparations go. If I don't make it, you can have my share of ale!" His neighbors pounded on his back as he saluted her with his mug. She left the hall to a chorus of "Maker watch over you," and other blessings.


	3. Chapter 3

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>A single road cut through the sea of long grasses; islands of trees or rocks dotted the landscape but the view from the fortress walls went on for miles uninterrupted. Normally the road had a steady stream of people going to and fro, especially as Amaranthine was rebuilt and trade continued, but during a lull there was just one lone figure coming towards the granite-walled fortress.<p>

As one approached the keep, the population growth was evident between each progressively larger wall. Wagons and tents gave way to small wooden houses and those structures closest to the original outer walls were of stone and mortar.

Passing under the portcullis at the main gate, the man looked around. The main yard was lively with people going to their various destinations. Banners of Fereldan, Amaranthine, the Silver Order, and the Gray Wardens adorned the walls. The messenger was staring at a massive ogre skull mounted over the gate; the bones had bleached in the sun and one of the horns had the tip broken off.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Turning, the man found a grizzled soldier standing next to him, his tabard proudly declaring his membership to the Wardens.

"Uhm, yes. It's larger than I remember ogres being."

"Lucky you for seeing one and living to talk 'bout it. That was the biggun' that attacked here during the Siege. We mounted it there as a reminder."

"A reminder? Of what, other than the Siege?"

The older man gave a harsh bark of laughter, "It's dead and we ain't."

The messenger chuckled, "That is quite true. If you don't mind helping me, good ser, I have a message for the seneschal, where may I find him?"

The warden nodded and held up two fingers, "Attend me!" The courier started at the bellow, but almost instantly two young lads came running up. The soldier pointed at one then the other, "You! Take the courier to the mess hall, let him have some grub. You! Go find the seneschal or his helper and tell him a messenger's here to see him." Winking at the stranger, "There you are, just follow that boy and he'll see you seated." The one boy was already racing towards the largest building and the other was tugging at the courier's sleeve, "This way, ser!"

The courier was almost jogging to keep up with the boy, who was talking non-stop, "…and that there's the great hall where the Hero stopped all the peasants from revolting and over there's where she killed four _ginormous_ ogres and there's Ser Gillam, he's really nice to us pages and he hasn't picked a squire yet but Willard thinks he's going to be picked but secretly I think it's going to be Daveth and here's where we all eat - just grab a trencher and some meat and –"

"Thank you, I think I've got it, thank you. You were an excellent guide." Chuckling, the messenger left the chattering boy and grabbed a small loaf of bread and a mug of lightly minted water. The mess hall was a massive room, with high ceilings and many windows left open to let the sound out. It was between the afternoon and evening meals, but with all the Silvers and Wardens at the keep, there was always something handy for stragglers.

He sat near a group of laughing men close to the door and picked at the bread. He happened to look up and saw her. A banner was partially blocking his view, but there was no mistaking who she was. She would never be the type of beauty that minstrels would write songs about but there was something dangerous about her. And when she smiled, it was truly captivating.

He was half out of his seat ready to go over to her, no matter what his plans had been, when his shifted view revealed what the banner had been blocking. She was standing quite close, intimately even, to a vaguely-familiar, broad-shouldered human wearing a strange outfit of robes and chain mail. The messenger's heart dropped as she placed her hand on the young man's forearm and laughed, placing a kiss on his forehead when he leaned over.

The messenger could feel his face burning, thankful he grew the beard, and looking down, realized he had crushed the bread in his fist. He shook his head, deciding that it would be best if he left now before he messed everything up, again. Just then, there was a polite cough at his elbow. Turning, he saw the second page boy standing there, "Ser, the seneschal is in his office and will have you attend him there." He glanced back to the far door; she was nowhere to be seen. "Oh. Right. Yes, lead on then."

Moments later he was left with Seneschal Harl in the study. Seneschal of Vigil's Keep was a role with many responsibilities; many responsibilities that required discretion. "Yes? I was told you had a message for me?" Taking a breath, the messenger pushed back his cowl. Eyes widened in recognition, Harl quickly knelt. "Y-your Majesty, I didn't recognize – I mean - I wasn't expecting you! My apologies; I would have had a proper welcoming. Where is your guard? Did something happen?"

Alistair held up his hand to stop the torrent of questions and gestured for the man to rise. "No, it is I who must apologize for this surprise. I wanted to travel without the fuss, and I would appreciate it if you kept it between us that I am even here."

"Of course! Of course, your Majesty! Please, how can I be of service?" Harl gestured towards stuffed chair by an unlit fireplace. Alistair nodded his thanks, "I…I was looking to speak with Warden Tabris or is it Warden-Commander again? I can never keep track how often the name on the reports change."

"Warden at this time, ser. You are fortunate, she is still here. To my knowledge she is planning on leaving again tomorrow at first light with the Dryden caravan."

"The Drydens, eh? I would rather not wander the halls looking for her, is there someplace quiet that we could meet?"

"She keeps apartments here, but she is probably down in the yard right now. I'll send a runner for her. She doesn't use the rooms much; I expect one day she'll just stop coming back though. Not one for staying in place, especially where the nobles can find her, but for now it lets her be close to- well, never you mind me, begging your pardon, your Majesty. I'd be honored to let you have use of my offices if that's more agreeable."

Alistair hesitated, unable to shake the image of her with that man, torn between wanting to know and not. He shook his head, a sour taste in his mouth, "I – it's a private manner and you're a busy man. I wouldn't want to put you out."

"What about dinner, your Majesty? The men would be most honored if you would dine with them, though the cook will have my head at this lack of warning."

"No, please. Nothing; I get so many fancy dinners in Denerim, I'm surprised I can still fit in my armor." He forced himself to smile as patted his stomach good-naturedly.

If he was disappointed at the lack of ceremony, Harl hid it well as he led the disguised king of Fereldan through the halls. In no time at all Harl was opening the door to a study filled with natural light. The seneschal didn't step into the room, but reached to close the door behind the king, "Not to overstep my bounds, your Majesty, but please try to stay in just this room. She can be protective of her space. She should be up momentarily." He gave a half-bow, and then vanished behind the silently closed door.


	4. Chapter 4

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>Alone, and at a loss, Alistair stood in the middle of the spacious room and looked around. Two wide windows looking out over the side yard, onto what appeared to be a small herb garden and several apple trees ready for harvest; the lower frames were lined with pillows. The weather was favorable so the shutters were opened wide, filling the room with the afternoon's light.<p>

There was a large desk with only a stack of papers and ledgers on it and two hard-looking chairs in front of it, facing the windows. A quick glance revealed they were tracking funds towards the rebuilding of Amaranthine. He knew the Grey Wardens were the driving force to the rebuilding, but he had no idea how much she was putting of her own fortune into it. As the assassin had said, treasure had a way of finding her.

Every wall in this room was covered with bookcases, paintings, and maps; the shelves looked as if they were going to collapse any moment from the astounding number of scrolls and tomes and little mementos stuffed onto them. Mixed in all the chaos were little statues and carvings, some holding pieces of jewelry or small etched symbols of the Chantry.

One set of shelves in particular caught his eye – many shallow dishes filled with ordinary looking rocks. Then he looked a little closer. Each rock seemed to have a brownish stain, from the size of a drop to most of the stone being covered. It looked like blood. "Creepy." He muttered to himself and moved away.

An empty armor stand was next to the door he just entered. There was an unlit fireplace in one corner with two comfy looking chairs in front of it. A small wooden flute rested in a velvet-lined box on the mantle. Next to the fireplace was a partially open door. From what he could see it led to a bedroom. He was considering the temptation when he heard muffled voices outside.

"Ser, you really should go see the healer!"

"Nonsense, it's just a bruise…maybe a few broken ribs. I've had much worse. Stop fussing!"

The door opened to the Grey Warden and a dwarven female walked in after, carrying a dirt-encrusted chain mail coat. Calitae barely spared him a glance as she walked straight to the bedroom but the squire practically squeaked when she noticed the man standing in the room, "But you could have a concu - oh! Pardon, messenger! I'll just leave this here, then. Pardon me, good day." The squire quickly hung the armor on a stand next to the door and slipped out.

Alistair looked back towards the bedroom, uncertain. Calitae was standing with her back to him in front of a mirror, wearing her fighting leathers and a dark green long-sleeved tunic, also mud-stained. She had lifted her shirt half up and was looking at her injury. Her entire side was a deepening red and purple bruise and he could hear her hiss through her teeth as she gingerly touched it. He couldn't help but stare; the years had been kind. She looked as if she had barely aged and was still lean and strong, but there was something definitely more feminine about her now. She had also grown her hair out and tied it into a long rope down her back; he could see there were objects braided in near the end.

She dropped the shirt and turned towards him, revealing muddy streaks on her face; combined with the tattoos, it made for a frightening mask. She slowly removed her sword belts with a grimace of pain, "Highly unusual for Harl to let someone in my room, let alone a messenger unattended. Something must be import – oh!" She cut off as she looked at the 'messenger's' face, her eyes widening in recognition. At least to one familiar with his appearance, there was no mistaking who he truly was, beard or not, although she had to admit that the outfit was a smart diversion from scrutiny. There was a small touch of gray at his temples and he had thickened slightly but the throne didn't seem to have softened him too much.

Emotions flickered across her features as she looked him over; of all the people of her past, she wasn't expecting _him_. She closed her mouth and gestured at his outfit. "Well, did you get demoted before or after you grew that thing on your face?"

Not quite the reaction he was expecting, he reverted to his defense of jokes, "Hey, I think I look dashing!" He gave a crooked grin and self-consciously started to smooth his beard. As he pushed off the cowl, he ran his hand through his hair in that familiar gesture, "And nice to see you too! Did you try and stop a bronco with your ribs?"

Calitae rolled her eyes, then turned away to hang up the weapons, "No, Berrick got lucky with that boulder he swings around and then the fence caught me. I'm not entirely convinced it didn't jump in the way on purpose."

"Uhm, ouch? Maybe your armor carrier was right about the healer because that looks pretty bad. And since when do you have other people carry your things? You swore this whole "Hero" thing wouldn't get to your head." He felt like he was going to throw up, but at least she hadn't tried to kill him. There was still plenty of daylight left, though.

"She insists and I pick my battles. This is an…unexpected surprise but what are you doing here, your Majesty?" She turned away to scrub the mud off, her mind racing. She felt like someone had yanked the rug out from under her feet. Calitae didn't know if this breathless feeling was from half of her ribcage being caved in or seeing _him_ again but she wasn't about to admit it was the latter; she wasn't some swooning, love-sick maiden – at least not in front of an audience. She scrubbed her face viciously with the towel.

Her vision swam with the physical exertion and she gritted her teeth against the pain, leaning heavily on the washstand. She could hear him move into the room behind her, stopping close enough she could feel the air move. Part of her wished he would just reach across those last inches and just touch her. His voice was deep with concern, "Are you okay?"

She winced while attempting to sigh, "No, not really. Everyone looks at me like I'm some sort of… I don't know what, but invincible nonetheless. I try not to disappoint them. Stick your head out the door; I'm sure Chey will still be there, fretting like an old woman. Ask her to send the healer and some wine up…please…Your Majesty." She smirked at him then gingerly walked to the chairs in the study while he did as she asked. "You didn't answer my question."

"I believe you asked more than one." He moved to one of the window seats, partially to put the desk between them; he just wanted to touch her. The vision of her hand wrapping around that man's arm, his lips on her forehead, came back unbidden. Alistair was thankful she wasn't looking at him in that instant.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I had never had a beard before and the dwarves sport them so well. I'm thinking about adding some braids in once it gets long enough, what do you think?"

Alistair held her gaze with an innocent look as she raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder, "You stroke that thing like a prized cat. Are you in any trouble?"

He grinned, "You say that like I was always in trouble and you had to keep rescuing me."

She shook her head in exasperation, "You could be quite the handful at times. Put your cowl back up, the healer is at the top of the stairs. She's more observant than she looks. Enter!"

The door swung open to the dwarven girl carrying a tray followed by a stocky older woman. "Warden, you need to stop with these antics, you're not getting any younger, hero or not. Shirt up. Maker save me, why don't you just throw yourself off the battlements, it'll be quicker." Scolding the elf constantly, the healer worked her magic while the squire hovered by the desk.

Alistair smiled at the impatient look on Calitae's face as she complained, "Chey, I'm not going to die any time soon - at least not from this. I swear the two of you are trying to make up for all the years I didn't have a mother in a week's time. Ouch!" She glowered at the healer as she rubbed the back of her head. "What was that for?"

"Be respectful. You should take care of yourself. And rest! You look like you haven't been sleeping again." Calitae glanced at Alistair then looked away. Not getting a response from her patient, the healer looked over her shoulder to give the messenger a piercing glare, his smile vanishing under the look. He certainly didn't envy his old friend as the healer turned back. "I suggest a bath too, or you'll be stiff tomorrow."

"Yes, yes… thank you, Merta." Injury tended to, the healer stomped out with the elf trailing after her. "Chey? I don't wish to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. You get the night off, and then remember to report to Silva tomorrow on time." Chey looked as if she was going to argue. "That will be everything. Thank you for all your assistance and remember: don't be afraid to let go." Dismissed, the squire saluted the dwarf with an almost reverence and closed the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>"What was that all about?" Leaning in the window behind the desk, Alistair gestured at the door with his chin as he pulled off the cowl again. Now that the healer had said something, he realized she did look tired.<p>

Calitae stretched to see her range of mobility, grimacing, "She wants to go with me tomorrow but she's still green enough that she's a liability. She's got potential but until she learns to tap into it, she'll end up a squire forever. Now. You have some answers you owe me, your Majesty."

He gave her a hurt look, "I left that title in my other pants. I can't tell if you're happy to see me or just want to get rid of me. _You're_ the one who disappeared. And never came back. Warden-Commanders should at least show the courtesy of attending their king _and_ fellow Warden once in a while, not to mention you didn't attend a single Landsmeet, _Arlessa_." He smiled to soften the words.

She practically snarled at the title he had forced on her, leaping out of the chair, "I sent you reports when I was supposed to. And I didn't come to the Landsmeet to keep the peace. They didn't need reminders that you had raised a knife ear to arlessa and they certainly didn't need reason to think that the Gray Wardens were controlling the throne. I dealt with my banns when they need something, otherwise Harl and the banns had it covered."

He frowned and crossed his arms, irritation creeping into his voice, "Yes, well, way to leave _that_ hanging. You do realize that by not attending, you were rubbing salt on open wounds. More than once, I had to convince them that you were the right choice." He saw her looked down in guilt but it quickly replaced by a flash of anger.

By this point, she was facing him aggressively, hands clenched into fists. One hand knifed through the air, "Enough of this. I only did this because you asked _as my king_. It all worked out and you know I would have done differently if there was cause to." Her tone hardened as she got defensive. "Besides, _you're_ the one who needed to be away from _me_, I was just making it easier on you." She got even angrier at herself as her voice cracked with the hurt, and turned away, scowling.

He stared at her back for a moment, clenching his jaw. He could see from the way she was standing that she was furious and quickly sliding into stubbornness. Then it struck him that she looked similar to a wounded animal, defending her pain. He felt like a fool for letting it get this bad. Forcing himself to relax, he dropped his arms and settled back on the pillows. He tried again, with a softer tone, "It was not my intention to fight with you - my apologies for catching you off-guard. May I ask you one question before I answer yours?" He hated being so formal with her and longed for the easy familiarity they used to have; he wondered if they ever could have it again.

His words worked, her shoulders slumping as the anger slipped away. She put down a carved figure she had being toying with and rubbed her forehead, "I'm sorry, _Alistair_. I don't want to fight either. Seeing you again after so long, it's confusing to say the least. So much time has gone by, yet truthfully, sometimes it still feels like yesterday. So yes, I am happy to see you and but I could have gone without this visit." She came over to the desk and poured two glasses of wine; holding one out to him in truce, "What is your question?"

He took a deep drink from the glass to hide the hurt her words caused, then coughed; the wine was much stronger than he was expecting. Calitae snorted as she went to sit back down, this time with the mail and an oilcloth. He watched her hands work, swiftly and efficiently as they cleaned the armor, his head feeling light from the alcohol.

Trying to remember how this scene played out in his head, he recalled the man in the mess hall. Now that she was here in front of him, just a step away, he just _had_ to know, "Who was that, that man you were so friendly with earlier?"


	6. Chapter 6

BioWare owns all the goodies.

**Note: **Sorry this is a long one, just didn't feel right hacking it up.

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><p>She became very still, her face a mask of neutrality. "How did, when did you - ?" She paused then turned to look at him. Seeing the look on his face she burst out laughing.<p>

"What?" The laughter took him by surprise, so soon after the anger. It was like a beam of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

The petulant look on his face made her laugh harder, the armor falling to the floor forgotten. "You're not, you're not _jealous,_ are you? You can't be!" She gasped, catching her breath, holding her healed side as it twinged.

He crossed his arms over his chest in a huff, "I don't see what's so funny. Who is he?"

"Well, it's find it funny or push you out of the window." He gave her an incredulous look, and then slowly moved away from the window seat. She closed her eyes and shook her head, shoulders slumping, the humor draining from her body as quickly as it appeared. He was learning that she was as still predictable as the wind. "Oh, Alistair. I should have known this day would come, I just didn't expect it so soon. I, I mean - he's…my son: Alesander."

He sat there in stunned silence. He definitely wasn't expecting that. Opening and closing his mouth several times, he finally stammered out, "Y-Your…son? But, but how? Then who is the… I mean. Oh. Ales.._ander_." He sounded out the name like he was chewing on week-old porridge. "Maker's breath, you had a child with that, that _maleficar _you conscripted?" He felt disgusted, "You…you killed _Templars_ over him!"

She had forgotten about that. Biting her lip, she frowned at him, "They only set up an ambush for us and tried to kill us, even though we were Grey Wardens! I would think you would be less judgmental after everything. That 'maleficar' also happens to be a good man at heart. Would you stop that and sit down!" He didn't realize he had been pacing and threw himself into the chair next to her, leaning away and bouncing his leg.

She shook her head at his behavior, trying to remember that this was a shock to him. "While Alesander wasn't why I left, he is certainly why I stayed away." She stared into the cold hearth while she put the words together. "The morning we reached left Redcliffe, I learned that I was pregnant. There wasn't exactly any time to share this information, bigger things on our plate and all that, plus you and I weren't exactly talking to each other."

She had done everything Wynne had accused her of, trying to be selfish instead of putting the greater good first, and they hadn't even faced the Archdemon yet. In the end, Alistair realized that as much as he didn't want to be king, he wanted Anora as queen even less. Once his mind was made up, she had to admit that he embraced it without hesitation. She just didn't anticipate that it would result in being cast aside like a dirty rag.

His leg stilled and he sat up, giving her a searching look, "Wait a minute, Redcliffe? Does that mean…?" He was fairly certain she hadn't met Anders before he sent her to Amaranthine. A seed of hope stirred within.

She continued as if she didn't hear, "After your coronation, Leliana and I left for Soldier's Peak. She's the only person who knows the truth, not even Alesander knows. It was her suggestion to give a non-Fereldan sounding name. When she received your request for the darkspawn research, she took him with her to find a family and eventually I came here."

"I…have a…son? With...you?" He felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

"Well, unless you're accusing me of being unfaithful back then, but yes, a half-blooded, bastard son who is also a mage." Alistair could detect no bitterness when she said those words. "You can see why I haven't exactly announced it to the world, and I would like it to stay that way." She gave him an anxious look.

He shook his head, "I…had no idea. I even had Zevran look for you when you disappeared and he said nothing."

Another arched eyebrow greeted him, "You had Zev _spy_ on me? He found me, after Leliana had left, tried to cheer me up. Never mentioned you, though. One day he was gone again and I had the request to come to Amaranthine waiting for me."

His eyes narrowed, "Well, you disappeared! I was worried and no one could find you. I can't believe he didn't tell me he found you. So he doesn't know about…our son?" He said the words with growing wonder.

"Of course he doesn't, although if he has suspicions, I couldn't tell you, and I haven't seen him since." She watched Alistair and could tell he had no recent contact either. "Leliana says Alesander is a miracle from the Maker. I can't explain it although with both of us tainted, the Archdemon's death, and who knows what Morrigan could have done, it's no real surprise something happened."

At the mention of Morrigan's name, Alistair flinched. Calitae looked at him, but he wouldn't meet her eye. "Wait. You know something. Are _you_ why Morrigan left without a trace after we slay the Archdemon? She says that we're like sisters and then she just leaves without a word. Alistair, what did you say to her?" She had grabbed his wrist and her fingers were painfully digging into his arm.

He pulled his arm back and went to put some distance between them, rubbing the rising bruises. "What all do you remember from our last night in Redcliffe?"

She looked at him suspiciously, "Redcliffe? We just found out that one of us had to _die_. I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially you, and Wynne was trying to give me an "I told you so" lecture, so I went climbing. I…think I heard someone knocking on my door, but I was already out the window."

"No wonder we couldn't find you," He muttered as he ran his hand through his hair. "That was probably me knocking on the door. You didn't speak to Morrigan?"

Calitae seemed reluctant, "Yes; she was in my room after we left Riordan. She…told me why Flemeth sent her with us. I was in no position to give what Morrigan was asking of me, and after Denerim, no position to ask it of you either. I told her to speak to you."

He tipped his head to one side, "You knew. And you didn't think I may have wanted to talk to you about it? Maker! You can be so…selfish!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "I was just as sick about what Riordan had told us as you were. I know I hurt you, but the Blight and the future of Fereldan was just a little more important than our feelings!" She grew paler as his voice became louder, eyes growing wide. She crossed her arms and hugged herself. He realized at that moment that even during all those times when she was looking after him, when she seemed so strong even if it was a brave face to keep everyone moving forward, all he ever wanted to do was make her feel safe.

He lowered his voice, still full of emotion and intensity, "I _wanted_ to die after what I did to you. Let Anora have the throne, all of them be damned." He shook his head and made an angry pushing motion to the side. "And if you had died? Why would I want to live with myself knowing I could have done something to save you?" He tapped his chest over his heart for emphasis.

Tears slowly filled her eyes, threatening to spill, but she didn't look away, "So you…?" There was no jealousy or anger in her voice, just quiet sadness. He was worried he would have yet another thing to beg forgiveness for, but it would all be worth it if she would just smile at him again like she used to.

He nodded, "Even though the thought of being with her was revolting. Morrigan was the most upset I've ever seen her, you meant more to her than I think you realize. Both of us wanted to save you. I know you. I know that there would be nothing stopping you from taking that final blow yourself, even if you did hate me then." He stepped around the desk and put his arms around her. Calitae resisted at first and then he felt her hands lightly brushing across his back as she embraced him back. "Morrigan's request was in my chance to protect you. And I certainly didn't argue when she said she was leaving and never coming back. I…I thought you knew."

They stood in each others' arms for a moment; he reluctantly released her the moment he felt her shift. Half-smiling, he carefully brushed away a tear from her cheek, "So there you have it; the bastard king went and made two of his own bastards."

Calitae gave him a crooked smile, her eyes still sad, "You told me it would be difficult for Gray Wardens to have children and here you have five running around." She gave him a sideways look, "Or is there more I don't know about?"

Alistair laughed and held up his hands in surrender, "No, I promise, up until today, I only knew of three for certain. Quite a happy day, if bumpy, I might add." That coaxed a slightly fuller smile from the mother of his eldest child. The mere thought made his heart skip a beat. "Tell me about him."

She took his hand and led him to the window seat. She sat facing out, her legs dangling down the wall, leaning against his legs as he sat sideways, with his feet braced on the frame. He watched her watching the people below; the delicate point of her ears, the sweep of her neck, how the sun turned her rich brown hair into a deep red. He felt self-conscious about how he had aged, and fingered the hair at his temple. His movement caught her eye and she looked at him, realizing what he was doing, she caught his hand, "I think it makes you look even more handsome than before." He flushed faintly as she delicately kissed his palm and placed his arm across her lap.

Calitae didn't seem ready to talk yet, so with his free hand he lightly traced a scar she didn't have when they were last face to face. It started right before her ear and followed along her jaw. "What's this from?"

She made a face, "House Dace in Orzammar lost some people looking for the secrets to the golems, even after I expressly warned them against it. Jerrik didn't tell me the full story until I got there. The abomination we found there tried to remove my head. It missed."

"Aha. So _that's_ what you weren't telling me when you asked me to request King Bhalen keep the dwarves from pursuing Caridin's research."

She shrugged and tipped her head so he could see the scar better, it was wider than he first realized, "No healer, so I was a little distracted with the pain. But I knew they would listen to you; Warden-Commander or not, they still saw me as a lowborn and you were a mighty noble."

Calitae took a deep breath, "Our...son." She smiled at him, wistfully, "I never thought I'd say that out loud, or that you'd ever know. I'm glad that you do, though; it hasn't been an easy secret to keep." Thinking on it, he realized it must have been a burden, if only having to keep her emotions in check with the role she was to fill. He couldn't imagine not being able to tell his children how much he loved them or how proud they made him feel. If she had her way, he would soon be learning.

"You must realize he has no idea who he really is and it needs to stay that way, surely you can see that. Most people think I adopted him. To him and to anyone who asks, I'm his aunt, married to his father's brother. His parents, my husband all died during a darkspawn attack, he was fostered by a neighboring family, who know no differently. I had little contact with him until his powers became evident as a small child and I took him to the Circle. He was young enough that he has little memory of life before the Tower."

His arm tightened involuntarily over her stomach, "You got married?" He schooled his voice and face to remain neutral.

She patted his arm, "No, I was close once or twice but never actually went through with the whole mess. It's merely the best story we could come up with that would leave little to question, although after so many were lost or displaced after the Blight, most don't even bother." She smiled, remembering, "When he was little, he admitted he wished Anders was his father and to his credit, while Anders never lied he was able to help out with magely and manly things…as manly as Anders could mange, that is. Better him than Oghren at least. Fortunately Alesander never picked up on Anders' dislike of authority figures." She chuckled.

Absentmindedly, Alistair scrubbed ran his hand over his hair, "I can hardly believe it, you know? I have a son. With you. What about the blood, his blood, the taint?"

She nodded, "He's been watched carefully and Avernus would test him when we both went to Soldier's Peak. No unusual nightmares and I can't sense him any more than Chey, thankfully – that would be tough to explain to Ventris. He's a happy, healthy boy." Calitae looked down as she picked at his sleeve, "I'm…I'm sorry I never told you. I didn't want there to be any problems with your succession after all we had been through to get you there."

Alistair placed a finger under her chin and gently turned her head to face him, "I may not understand all of why you did what you did but know that I trust you. How can I not?" She gave a small smile and cupped his hand over her cheek, closing her eyes. "Can I meet him?"

She shook her head vehemently, "Never as his father if I have my way. You have three legitimate children and a capable queen - there is nothing good down that path." She could sense his disappointment, so playfully tugged his beard, "I'm not so sure as king-turned-courier either or whatever you're doing dressed like this."

They stayed touching for a moment before she pulled back, still holding his hand. He smiled. "About that. This was not at all how I expected this to go. I'm just saying."

"Oh? What, you were expecting to find me buried behind a mountain of ledger books and were going to sweep me away for a short while before running back to your castle?"

"Well, now that you mention it, yes! Cursing up a storm as you battled quill and papercut alike. But no running away for me." She rolled her eyes at him. "No really, though. This is actually Eona's idea."

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> I forget where I read it, but someone was sharing the opinion in regards to potential DA3 plots that Morrigan would do probably anything to get what she wanted, in this case the chance at an Old God's soul. Saving the Warden who's become so dear to her would merely be a benefit.

Whomever that was, thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>"The queen's idea?" She gave him a skeptical look and withdrew her hand from his, mentally berating herself for forgetting, even for a moment.<p>

"She is…the perfect partner, the perfect mother, and the perfect friend. She helped me stop feeling sorry for myself and I grew to respect and admire her greatly. Thank you for finding her. She says thank you as well, because of you, she has everything she had ever dreamed about." His eyes danced with amusement.

Calitae looked him in the eye with a straight look on her face, "I have no idea what you mean."

"Hah. I know you helped her to come to Denerim and sponsored her. She told me."

"Well, she may be perfect but she certainly didn't keep her promise." Calitae gave him a sideways look.

"I mean it when I say she and I are friends. She and I share most everything. So she knows that our days are numbered, at least more so than her own days, and she knows that I… that I never stopped loving you, Calitae. The twins are about the same age as I was when I took the throne not to mention more prepared and between you and I, much better at it than I could ever be. Fereldan is in good hands." He pulled a leather-wrapped bundle out of his surcoat and held it out to her, "I even brought you a copy of all the papers we signed to ensure everything was taken care of just in case you thought I had finally run away. I wouldn't be surprised if Eona slipped a letter in there for you as well, just in case I couldn't explain properly."

She chewed on her lip and didn't look at him or the bundle. "This is not some concussion-fueled dream? I am not laying in the yard with the fence laughing at me while I slowly drown in my own blood?" She leaned out of the window, looking down.

"I really must meet this fence that has it out for our dear Warden. But no, not a dream unless I am dreaming it too. Where are you – ?" In one fluid motion she swung out of the window and came back in through the other, hopping across the desk and went into the bedroom. Curious, he was about to follow when she came back out carrying a box.

He could see it was carved with thorny vines and what looked like Dalish runes on the lid. She slid open the top and showed him the contents: a rose cradled in a bed of black silk. _The_ rose. Still frozen in that perfect moment between bud and bloom. "I...I can't believe you still have it. That it's still alive."

"Another one of those mysteries that seem to follow me. The Maker Himself will have to come pry it from my cold dead hands before I willingly give it up." She ran her fingers over the box's carvings. He could see something shift in her stance and when she looked back at Alistair her face was set in a hard expression. "We're in love with memories - with the past. Is that any better than being lost in the Fade again?"

He felt like he was a never-ending emotional battle with her as a feeling of dread washing over him, "What? What are you saying?"

"I don't blame you. It was a different time but it's easy to forget how tough it was on the road. It was half our livetime ago, we are changed people now. You have a family, and a luxurious home, warm food in your belly every night, and you are quite beloved as king. Are you sure you want to give that up for sleeping on the ground in the rain and cold, eating travel rations, hunting down more darkspawn or whatever else decides to try to eat us? Just for a chance at reliving a memory?" Brown eyes searched grey.

He stepped closer to her, looking down at the box between them, "You have a family too. And I would like to think we would make new memories."

Calitae's cheeks flushed, her tattoo fading slightly, "Yes, I have a family and I am a coward. It's easier to be away from him than see your eyes looking at me, hear your laugh. Less chance of him realizing I've been lying to him his entire life."

Amusement tinged his voice, "I would call you many things, but a coward is not one of them."

She chewed on her lip again, "You have three children to marry off, and your future grandchildren to bounce on your knee."

"I do. But that won't be the rest of my life."

"It could, some men would die for that chance." He could see now she was purposefully being stubborn.

"I know. I love my family more than I can possibly express. But they – but it's not enough for me. Does that make me a bad person?" He placed his hands over hers on the box.

"I don't think you could be a bad person if you tried." His touch was distracting, so she tried again, looking away, "I don't own you, you are free to do as you please. I would be a fool if I thought you were meaning to do nothing but be in my company forever."

He took the box from her, gently removing the rose. "I don't think you are letting yourself hear what I am saying." Taking a hand, he knelt before her, presenting the rose once again. "Calitae Tabris of the Grey, if you would have me, I pledge to stay by your side until we hear our Calling or until the fates decide otherwise. All that is before you, I give to you."

"You can't re-give this." She took the rose back, not smiling, "You are going to make my face leak. Get up." Her heart was racing, she couldn't believe that this wasn't another dream to torment her.

He didn't move, "You are ruining a perfectly good moment, my love."

She tried to hold a stern expression but finally the smile he felt like he had been waiting for forever broke through as she shook her head, "I'm still planning on leaving tomorrow. I won't say no if you want to come along."

He could barely contain the feelings of relief and nervous excitement as he wrapped his arms around her, "And you call _me_ the exasperating one! But that wasn't a no, I'll take it!" For at least this battle, he would claim victory.


	8. Chapter 8

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>"So are you king still, or not?" They were walking across the Keep in the evening's light to the quartermaster as Alistair had brought no proper gear with him while disguised as a courier. As it was, he was wearing some of Alesander's clothes she borrowed, ill-fitting since the boy was slightly shorter and more slender than his father.<p>

"Well, technically yes, although right now it would be as if I were a child and Duncan was my regent."

Her voice was low with emotion, "I think it was a lovely gesture, naming your child after him." Then she smirked, "You know you shouldn't go around referring to yourself as a child. It's unseemly for a man of your age. Maybe next time say invalid."

He didn't have a chance to respond as they had arrived and soon a trio of pages running armfuls of gear back to her rooms. She helped him tie the blue and silver tabard into place, declaring him a Grey Warden once again. "Since I didn't throw you out the window, I assume this means you're no longer in hiding?"

"Should I be worried? I just want to be clear if I am safe around high places with you. And I was never in hiding, just traveling in peace, with an easy escape route if you said no."

She led him in a different direction from which they came, "Then time to put that regal tongue of yours to work." Laughing, she put out a hand to steady him as he tripped, "You know, after making so many babies, I would think you'd be a little more difficult to fluster."

He haughtily straightened his tunic, "What? No! I...just stumbled is all! And what _are_ you talking about?"

She grinned as she opened a small door to a short flight of stairs underground, "Whatever you say, your Majesty."

He stepped in before her and found himself in the massive kitchens. An entire wall was nothing but ovens and heaths large enough to roast whole cows in. There were at least a dozen people rushing about with baskets and trays. Overseeing it all was a tall woman with red hair waving a large cleaver about, which was currently turned in the two Wardens direction. "Warden! You know better than to intrude this soon before a meal!"

"Forgive me, Bella! I know how hard you work and you know how much I appreciate it. I don't know if you remember but this is Alistair, he was traveling with me when we first met, also known as the king of Fereldan. Alistair, this is Bella, from Redcliffe. It took me longer than I liked to fulfill my promise to her, but she runs our kitchens like a general over an army."

Bella blushed and curtsied, "Your Majesty, of course I remember you." She turned back to Calitae and waggled the cleaver at the dwarf, "I wish you had warned me he was coming: I didn't prepare anything special!"

Alistair held up a hand and smiled with all his charm, "No, please, I wasn't sure if I was going to be eating here, and she didn't know I was coming. I don't need anything special, but I did bring my appetite and it smells better than anything from Denerim's kitchens!"

Bella blushed deeper and curtsied again. "You flatter me. The Wardens have just sat down if you wanted to join them."

"Thank you, Bella." Calitae grabbed Alistair's elbow and dragged him in the direction of the mess hall as Bella turned back to yell at the staff. "She works miracles in there, even when we had over two score Wardens present with their hungers."

"How many are here now?"

"Two dozen or so, maybe a little less. We're mid-rotation with the Denerim post and with the influx of recruits, Commander Ventris sent patrols to see the bannorns. Orlais hasn't sent any new spies recently." She mentally kicked herself for letting that slip.

He stopped, "What? Orlesian spies? Don't you think that was something the king of Fereldan would want to know? Or is this something that isn't impersonal enough to qualify a note?" His voice was stony with anger.

She walked back to him, eyes flashing, looking to see if anyone was in earshot, "Lower your voice. And I didn't tell you because they're Wardens spying on _me_, not Fereldan, so no, it was personal business. You think after everything I've given up that I would endanger Fereldan? Weisshaupt has them here too, though in the support staff, not Wardens. Yet another reason Alesander cannot know anything. They don't trust me after the Archdemon and the whole business with the Architect, no matter the results." She frowned and continued down the hall. "Ventris and Harl both know and deal with it as they see fit, that's all that matters."

They stopped before a pair of large doors, both taking a moment to compose themselves. The doors vibrated from the sound within; the hall was packed for the evening meal and it was near-deafening. She led the way through the tables, stopping occasionally to exchange greetings with soldiers as she passed. Alistair looked around but couldn't spot Alesander in the crowded room.

In the very middle was the table of Grey Wardens, an eclectic mix of men of varying ages representing all of Fereldan. A cheer went up when they saw her. She went over to the man wearing the double gryphon crest of the Warden-Commander and spoke into his ear, gesturing at Alistair. He looked over Alistair, taking in the tabard, then nodded and yelled something at the Wardens to his right. They immediately cleared a spot on the table, and Calitae leapt up.

One of the mage Wardens shot a bolt of lightning to the rafters, catching the attention of the hall. In a moment, it was near-silent, every face looking to the elf on the table.

She cleared her throat then shouted, "It wasn't me, but thank you for your attention. I just wanted you all to know that we have a special guest – Alistair Theirin, king of Fereldan has come to rejoin the Grey Wardens for the evening!" She paused while she waited for the cheer to die down as Alistair waved and was pounded on the back by those in reach.

"I'm sure you have all heard the stories of him visiting local taverns in Denerim. Consider this visit like that - he seeks no special treatment beyond what you would give another Grey Warden." The second cheer was louder than the first and they started stomping their feet in unison as she hopped down.

The Wardens had made room for Alistair and her to join them at the table and soon the hall was back to the original roar of voices. She quickly ate through her meal, watching her men accept Alistair as if he had always been a part of the group; the taint was always a strong starting point for bonding. Deciding now was as good as any time to have a bath in peace, she slipped away.


	9. Chapter 9

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>Showing his rare humor, Osred Ventris was lamenting that first he had to deal with being Warden-Commander while the Hero was around and then the king gets sprung on him, when Alistair looked around for Calitae. The boy called Gyfford noticed his looks, "Oh, don't you worry about her, ser, she never eats much and is always running off somewhere. This means she can't say no when I'm telling you that you're coming to The Stand tonight!"<p>

Alistair turned his attention back on the young warden, tucking his concern away, "The Stand?"

"After sundown, follow the path out of the western gate, you won't miss us! Try and get her to come too and don't forget your drinking shoes!"

"You have...shoes just for drinking in?"

The men at the table all laughed, "Oy, you mean dancing shoes, Gyff!"

"Yeah, but with women being scarce, we often end up drinking more than dancing!"

"Th' boy's got it right." One of the older wardens sitting next to Gyfford grabbed him in a friendly headlock and they began rough housing at the table until the young man yielded.

True to her endorsement, Bella kept a steady stream of food to the serving tables until the majority of soldiers had disappeared and the Wardens were finally slowing down. While not all seemed to have had their appetites affected the same way Alistair's had been, they still had healthy appetites.

The Warden-Commander waited patiently as people would come up to meet the king. Finally he chased off the rest of the Wardens, reminding them to finish their duties before the night's festivities.

Alistair was feeling anxious to get back to Calitae but could sense Ventris wanted to talk. "Your Majesty, if you would indulge me with a short stroll, I'll see we get you to your quarters before long."

Alistair followed him out of the hall and towards one of the guard towers at the corner of the keep,"Absolutely, but please, call me Alistair. I am just another Warden today."

"As you say. Will you be leaving with Tabris tomorrow?"

"That was my hope and plan." They began to make their way up the stairs of the tower.

"Majes- Theirin, I don't care for politics, in Gwarven, in Denerim, even here. If you are here for whatever reason, so be it." The older man gestured in a way that seemed to encompass the land, not just Vigil's Keep, then crossed his arms. "A visit from our king and senior warden is always good for morale, but more importantly I think it's wise someone go with her. I send most Wardens out in pairs if not more. Even during the Blight and this nonsense with the Mother she had people to watch her back. Now she is always alone unless she finds a new potential." He gave a half-shrug, "While I trust the faith she sees in me for this position, she's still very important, to everyone." Ventris ran a hand over his face, his stubble making a whisper against his calloused palm. "She would run me through if she knew I was telling you this."

Looking over the edge of the wall, Alistair nodded, "Better than how she keeps threatening to get rid of me. I have not seen her in many years, so I cannot say what is now normal or not for her." He turned back to the commander, "But I will tell you, my plan is to stay with her until the Maker determines otherwise or she gets so annoyed with me that I'll wake up one morning to an empty camp."

Ventris grunted as he watched the sun slip behind the distant hills, "I had heard stories about the two of you from the Blight. To each their own, I say. Just keep an eye on her for me, if you would, your Majesty." They had continued along the wall to a bridge that gave access to the central keep. "Here we are, go to the end and take a left, twice, her door will be first on the right then."

"Uh, yes. You don't have to ask me twice but you have my word, Commander. Thank you." Taken aback at the abrupt end of the conversation, Alistair saluted the officer, nodded to the guard at the indicated door, and entered into the hallway.


	10. Chapter 10

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>Just as he stepped around the corner, the door to her room opened and Alesander stuck his head out, "There you are! Come in, ser! I've heard so much about you, my name is Alesander, but everyone just calls me Alder. Uh...can I get you anything? Ser?" He trailed off uncertainly.<p>

Alistair followed his son into the room, unable to take his eyes off the boy to the point of being rude; no wonder he was familiar looking, Alistair had looked at a similar face more than once in a mirror as a young man.

"No, he should be fine - Alistair!" Calitae's voice broke through his fixation and he forced himself to look at her. Her long hair was mostly unbound and wet, and she was giving him a look. He noticed Alesander looking at his "aunt" with a questioning look.

"I'm sorry! You caught me off-guard. I am so happy to meet family of Calitae's and I hope she didn't make me out to seem like a complete bumbling idiot, although I seem to be doing a fine job of that myself." He laughed nervously and looked back at her, "Where did you go? One moment you were there, the next you were gone. And what's this about you not eating? Since when do you lose your appetite?"

The room looked like it was on fire as the last of the sun's rays were caught in the west-facing windows. She was seated at her desk, the strange weights from her braid arranged before her. She had changed into a dark green open-necked sleeveless blouse, the vial of blood visible at her throat. Alesander moved behind her chair and continued helping her braid it.

She shrugged, "It comes and goes, along with the nightmares. Not _those_ nightmares, but enough to put me off my stride. Sleeping indoors usually makes it worse, but I don't want Alder here forgetting what I look like."

She started to turn to smile up at him and was rewarded with a light smack on the top of the head. "Stop moving or it'll be crooked. And I'm not a child anymore, I will understand." She smiled, sadly, at Alistair while their son could not see her face.

Alistair didn't want to end up staring again, so wandered around the room. "What are those? You put them in your hair?" He pointed at the strange objects on the desk. He could see now most were smooth stones with holes drilled through for her hair, the rest were what looked like small bells.

"Hair this long can be impractical when traveling, so I took a page out of the Crows' handbook and made it work for me. Doesn't mean it can't look nice too. The weights mean I'm never weaponless. Alder likes to help on my last night here so we have some time together."

Alistair stared, "You're not serious. You are! That is just morbid! Have you kill- no wait. Don't tell me." He turned away, covering his face with a hand, shaking his head. The pile of stained rocks caught his eye again. "What about these? Is that blood? Please say you're not collecting blood."

"I'm...not collecting blood?" She grinned at his back, "No really, every battle I walk away from, I collect a stone. It's a reminder."

"It's not darkspawn blood is it?"

"No. It's mine. I wouldn't bring darkspawn blood around people. If I wasn't wounded, I put a drop on a rock. More damage, more blood. Healing with magic doesn't always leave scars unless it's a really bad wound, so I made a way to remember." She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, where he knew she still had the knots of skin from the arrows from the battle in Ostagar. Looking back, it didn't surprise him that Flemeth would purposefully leave someone like Calitae with the scars.

He glanced at Alesander, knowing he was intruding into their private time, but the young man seemed content as he concentrated on his task, stealing glances at their visitor. Turning back Alistair picked up a small carved dragon rearing on its' back legs with a sword sticking out of its' eye. The level of detail was amazing, down to the scales of the beast and the hilt of the sword. "This is fantastic!" He turned back to see the pair break into matching smiles; he wondered if she smiled so little that no one noticed how similar the two were.

"Aunt Cal told me about all your adventures!"

She gave a teasing grin, "Only about a hundred times each."

Alesander came over to stand next to Alistair, and Calitae's chest clenched; while Alder was slightly more delicate seeming, they were so similar, all anyone had to do was look close. Her son searched the shelves and found another carving, holding it out to the man he she selfishly hoped he would never know as father, "And when she told me that you killed a dragon, I could just see it in my mind. So I made it – it's a bookend, here is the other half. She was supposed to give it to you, but she said she never saw you anymore. Now you can have it!" He held out the other carving.

Calitae wouldn't meet his eye so he looked closer at the gift; a figure, he realized it was him, running towards the dragon with Morrigan raising a staff and Calitae letting lose an arrow, Whatdog charging forward next to him. It was an inspiring piece of work. "You made it seem like I did all the work, but this is just amazing. Better late than never, I'm honored to accept your gift, Alder."

Oblivious to the adults, Alesander continued, beaming with pride, "I also carved her a box and her flute."

It dawned on Alistair that there were a few well-made carved toys in the nursery back home that he could never figure out where they came from. "You truly have a talent here. And pardon me for asking, but why 'Alder'? It's not for the carving is it?"

The young man started chuckling, shaking his head, "Oh, no. Alesander is a mouthful to a child, Alder was just easier and it stuck." Not wanting to squander this time with their esteemed guest, he rushed on, "So was it true? Did you really do all those things with my aunt?"

"I just followed where she led, except when she went to the Deep Roads. She made me play politics with the dwarves while she had all the fun."

"My friends are going to be so jealous! You two are like the heroes of legend!"

Calitae muttered as she tied off her softly ringing braid, "That's because Leliana wouldn't keep her mouth shut. Give me those and I'll pack them with your things. You're sleeping here tonight, I never sleep on my last nights and I don't feel like troubling Harl." She glanced out the window, "I'm guessing Gyfford asked you to drag me to The Stand as well. It will be a couple hours before it's in full swing." She paused, thinking. Now that Alistair knew, it seemed unfair to take away what little time he could have with his son. She had to trust him to keep the secret. "Alder, if you can forgive me cutting our time short, I would feel much better if Alistair could test out his new gear before we need to rely on it. Do you two mind going and having a spar?"

The boys' face lit up and he looked at the king hopefully, "I'm game if you would be." Her heart ached; so young and so mature at the same time.

Alistair looked to Calitae with a question in his eyes, she gave a very slight nod, "I would be delighted to spar with you, Alder; I don't believe I have ever faced an arcane warrior before. Where shall I meet you?"

Alesander was already half out the door, "The armory has an area for spars, downstairs!"

Calitae walked over to the empty door and turned back to the man in her room, "You have made his year. Thank you."

He stepped over to her, put his hands on her upper arms and gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead, "No, thank you. I know what you're doing. You don't have to worry about me. What about you?"

She deflected gracefully, "I am going to find Merta. You should go get your armor and brush up on your Templar skills."

"The healer? I thought you said this was a spar!"

She just laughed as she stepped into the hall.


	11. Chapter 11

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>Two hours later, dark had fully fallen as Calitae and Alistair slipped out the western gate. She had taken the time to alter some more clothing for him, so while he wasn't in the finery of a noble, he was comfortable in a loose fitting shirt and suede pants.<p>

Her outfit was completed with flowing, wide-legged pants tucked into soft ankle boots. A wide gold-colored sash was wrapped around her entire midsection, and two thick leather cuffs adorned her wrists. Alistair told her she looked like a Rivani pirate, but secretly thought she looked like a dangerous forest cat with her ears and braid. She merely pointed out that it let her remain armed, even while relaxing; her sash alone held six blades in its folds.

"You know, if you told me that the person who could carve like that could also fight like that, I probably wouldn't believe you." After Merta's ministrations, Alistair was now nursing only a bruised ego, proud father or not.

Accompanied by the soft jingling from her braid, she led him down the path slowly to give their eyes time to adjust as they moved away from the torchlight on the wall, "He learned the dual wielding from watching me as a boy, and then he developed the talent, it seemed natural that he would take to the ways of an arcane warrior. The First Enchanter wasn't too pleased when he realized what I was trying to show Alder, but once I gave him the notes we found, he was able to help Alder a lot. More than a few arguments were had when we tried to figure out a shorter staff for him."

"He's an impressive young man. You should be proud." He smiled to himself as he watched her absentmindedly picking seed pods and leaves from the bushes and grasses they walked by, tucking them into a pouch. It was a habit she had picked up during their former travels, she was always stockpiling potentially useful ingredients.

"I am, very. And really so should you. He has such potential; it is hard hearing him talk about wanting to be a Grey Warden. I just can't bear the thought him not succeeding through the Joining." She grimaced and shook her head, "He'll probably be even more determined after meeting you. I just keep trying to encourage him to go out into the world first, maybe start a family. Then if it's something he still wants, perhaps join. But ultimately, he is as stubborn as both of us put together."

They both laughed and continued in silence other than the rustling of the grasses and the delicate tinkling of bells she had attached to her braid in anticipation for tonight's dancing. Up ahead, Alistair could see a strange orange glow behind some trees. "Is someone's hut burning down?"

"No, that would be why we're out in the middle of nowhere. Welcome to Theirin's Stand."

"Theirin? Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"You're a king, people have a tendency to name things after kings. That and I refused to let them name it after me." She waved at a Warden standing on a rock next to the path, keeping watch.

"Why 'The Stand'?"

She gave him a sideways glance, "Couldn't exactly call it 'Alistair's Circle of Old Rocks and Trees In the Middle of Nowhere'."

He laughed, then paused when she stayed serious, "You're joking, right? It has nothing whatsoever to do with, I don't know, the last battle in Denerim versus the _Archdemon_, or anything like that?" He sounded hopeful.

"I bet you like those exaggerating songs the minstrels sing about you, too."

"You are so very mean."

She finally laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder, "You're the one who told me the Grey Wardens should remember to laugh. So this is what we do, every fortnight or so, although I think they try to have at least one before I disappear. Any warden that's at the Keep is here – and we bend the rules for the few wives so there are some women around."

They stepped through an archway and instantly broke into sweat from the heat. The Stand appeared to be an old ring of stones amidst a solitary thicket. Someone had cleared the center and built a towering bonfire. Around the edge of the clearing were smaller rocks and benches. A makeshift table with a giant keg and crude mugs was to one side. All around were the Wardens from the evening meal, and sure enough, a few women had arrived as well. Greetings were called out as the pair stepped into the firelight; Alistair found a mug thrust into his hands as Gyfford dragged him off to a group of recruits.

Calitae leapt onto a rock and called out, "Now I'm sure this is supposed to be a party, where is the music?" She pulled out a small box from another pouch, inside the wooden flute. Someone else produced a lute and another sat by her feet with some drums. In no time there was music and soon people were dancing.

It wasn't a large group, Wardens drifting in and out as they were needed elsewhere. The ale flowed and the women all danced with anyone who asked. The musicians were replaced by others, taking turns for drinks and dances. If not playing the flute, Calitae was dancing right along with the men, she never paused once; Alistair was amazed at her energy and could hardly say no when one of the women dragged him to his feet. The men sitting around the fire would clap and sing the bawdy tunes normally saved for taverns and not-so-polite company.

More than once Calitae caught Alistair watching her, not looking away when their eyes met over the flames. She even let him take her for a turn around the fire when one of the latecomers produced a fiddle, their hands lingering with each touch.

All too soon it was over, Osred showing up for the last few songs before shooing everyone to bed. The commander had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when the festivities were almost too far gone. The bonfire was a heap of glowing coals as those more sober of the group helped carry back the keg and furniture. Several had already passed out around the fire pit.

Calitae found Alistair talking to a Warden and his wife; she was pleasantly surprised that he was able to stand unassisted. He gave her a big smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "There you are! Tonight was...marveloush! You are marveloush!" Mostly unassisted; she staggered under the weight, not completely sober herself.

"Yes, so I've been told." Chuckling, she nodded to the couple, "Pleasure to see you again, Ansi, thank you for coming. Good night, warden." She steered Alistair towards the archway, "Let's get you to bed, ser." With the alcohol consumed, the path back was more challenging that the trip out, but squires were often sent to keep it clear of obstacles and safe. The crisp autumn air away from the fire helped both of them clear their heads.

They walked slowly together, shoulders brushing. Alistair spoke deliberately, "I don't often let myself drink that much, even when I'm down in the taverns. When I drink far too much, I get somewhat maudlin, so even when I was relaxing I'd have to remember not to embarrass the throne or Eona."

"To them, you are still king and married." She waved vaguely at the fortress looming out of the darkness.

"Yes, but more importantly, I was a _Warden_ tonight. Thank you for this. I had forgotten what it was like."

"Life before the Blight and being king was a very long time ago, it's the least I can do for you. Now, lots of stairs, no falling on me." Soon enough she had Alistair sprawled across her bed, asleep before she got his boots off.


	12. Chapter 12

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>It was still dark when he first. The only light was from a crack under the door and a banked fire in the bedroom's hearth. His eyes adjusted and he could see a stone pitcher and a glass next to the bed. He pulled off his shirt, tossing it over the end of the bed and poured a glass of water, cool and minty. Leaning back in bed, he stared at the door then decided to see what she was up to.<p>

Opening the door to the study, he found her behind the desk, her lap buried in a small mound of clothes she was currently pulling a needle and thread through. She had changed back to her leather pants and a similar tunic from earlier in the day. On the desk the leather-wrapped bundle of papers was opened and spread out before her. She was reading them intently by lantern light, and didn't notice him standing there. He saw she already had their gear bundled up and placed by the door. "So when do you sleep?"

She started and cursed, having jabbed the needle into her finger. She turned to glare at him, and did a double-take: she wasn't expecting to see him bare-chested and barefoot. Shaking her head for focus, she turned back to the sewing, "Why are you awake, you hardly slept for two hours?"

A smile crept slowly across his face, "Hard to sleep when you're being choked."

"Choked?" She still wouldn't look at him.

"The shirt."

"Ah, well, here's a new one, should fit better and it's clean." She tossed him the piece of clothing and made a point of reading some more as she readied the next piece of clothing. "You should go back to bed; we have a long day tomorrow."

Alistair draped the shirt over his shoulder, sauntered over to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sprawled in it, eyes dancing with mischief, "So did Eona include the letter?"

Calitae viciously stabbed the fabric, "She did." The awkward daughter of a bann seemed to have grown into a gracious lady, her letter confirming what Alistair had told explained. "You left out the part where she fell in love with you." She looked up finally as he squirmed in his seat, mischievousness nowhere to be seen.

"I tried, I truly did. Mother of my children, queen to my king, she was everything I should want. But she wasn't you." His voice was heavy with sorrow. "You're very hard to forget, you know." She returned his solemn look, understanding completely, but remained silent. "I know you think I'm doing the wrong thing. Lots of people do. They forget my father left the throne for a while at least. And they usually haven't met Duncan and Ava; I swear when those two work together, they can see through a man's soul." He smiled wistfully at her.

"We are both very selfish people, Alistair. I know I should send you back to your wife, but I know Ventris is worried about me and could use the company." She could see he was about to speak and interrupted, "Here. Clean pants that should fit better as well." She threw the pants at his face and started gathering up the papers. "You should go back to sleep, a few more hours until day break. Bella is going to send up some food so we can avoid the mess hall."

He pulled the pants off his head and started laughing when he saw she had stitched 'king of Fereldan' in the seam, "No leaving my title in my other pants, eh?" He stood up, "Thank you for the clothes. I didn't know you could sew."

She chuckled as she went and tucked the sewing kit into one of the packs, "Just because you've never seen me do it, doesn't mean I can't. Wynne made me learn how when you kept bringing her your clothes in need of repair."

He grinned boyishly, "So what are you going to do? When is the last time you slept?"

"I caught a nap last night." She grunted, "Off with you, before Fifth comes back to steal the bed. She thinks it's hers."

"Fifth?" He stopped at the door, watching her move around the room.

"The latest mabari that has decided to imprint on me. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow." She kept her hands busy.

He could see she was tired, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself. "Tae." His voice was low but insistent; he was the only one who used that pet name.

Mentally steeling herself, Calitae turned to face him as he held out a hand, "Just come relax for a bit. No funny business...not unless you want me to." His sing-song tone made it clear he was joking.

She put her hands on her hips, but she was blushing, "What, are you scared of the dark now? Need to be tucked in?"

"Oh yes. You've found me out. I'll need some warm milk and a dolly too."

"Put your shirt on."

"What, don't trust my intentions are honorable?" Knowing better, he was already pulling the shirt over his head.

"More like I don't trust mine." Calitae grinned wickedly at him before extinguishing the lantern. She brushed by him into the bedroom while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Moments later, she was in the crook of his arm, head leaning on his shoulder, her hand curled lightly on his chest. He played with the end of her braid in joyful silence, now that the bells were removed; up close he could feel it was many tiny braids tied into one larger one, making for a very strong rope of hair. He shook his head at the thought of the damage she could probably do with it – had done with it. Alistair could feel her relaxing next to him and before too long her breathing had deepened. He closed his eyes, kissed the top of her head, and breathed in deeply; he fell asleep to the scent of wild roses and wood smoke.


	13. Chapter 13

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>She opened her eyes to darkness; it was so dark, there was no difference between her eyes open or shut even as she waved a hand in front of her face.<p>

"_First day they come to catch everyone."_

She knew it was a dream, but Calitae could feel the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. She firmly pressed her palms over her ears, screwing her eyes shut; Hespith's voice seemed to come from every direction.

"_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."_

It didn't help; the disturbing verse still came through. She couldn't stop shivering from the cold, damp air or the fear. Waving her hands in front of her, she slowly inched forward. She bumped into a wall, covered with slime. Wiping her hands on her pants, she stopped and turned her head; unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she thought she could see a very faint dimming to her left.

"_Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."_

She carefully made her way towards the light, when something suddenly touched her face. Choking back a scream, she leapt back, tearing at her face – it felt like a spider web. She could hear the spiders now; the soft chittering whispering around her, the echoing tapping of their claws on the stone. Calitae shuddered; reaching for weapons that didn't exist.

"_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate."_

She found herself at a crossroads in the caves; the light was coming from sputtering torches placed outside a carved door. Bones and gore were piled to either side. Looking up, she could see the ceiling covered with stars from all the spiders watching her. The paths down either side were swallowed up in the darkness. She grabbed a torch and found a large bone to use as a make-shift club.

"_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn."_

Grinding her teeth, Calitae deliberately turned from the door and set down one of the side paths; she knew what lay beyond that door. Holding the torch high to keep the spiders at bay, she strained with all of her sense to try to see what was ahead.

"_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."_

Suddenly, the roar of a darkspawn blasted through the tunnel, the echoes making it impossible to tell where it came from. She turned around just in time to see two small Genlock stepped into the circle of light; she didn't sense them before and she couldn't even now. She frantically swung her club at them and stepped backwards.

"_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew."_

The path opened into a small chamber with a large stalagmite growing out of the floor. She could see now that the Genlocks had been herding her into a group of Hurlocks. There were at least a dozen of them and she had no weapons. She lunged one way with the torch and quickly spun the other direction, catching one of the darkspawn on the side of the head. With a sinking feeling, Calitae realized they weren't trying to kill her.

"_Eighth day, we hated as she is violated."_

More darkspawn were coming in behind the Genlocks; it was getting crowded in the chamber and they grew bolder with their numbers. She dodged around the rocky formation and glimpsed a path going further into the caves. She lunged again at the monsters to clear some room, and then ran at the stalagmite, using her momentum to step up its sloped sides. With a well-timed push, she managed to land behind the front row of Hurlocks, but one had grabbed at her as she was overhead, causing her to land painfully into another, knocking it down.

Her club was torn from her hand and a Genlock began battering ineffectively at her back and legs as she struggled to free herself from the Hurlocks' grasp, its armor biting painfully into her skin. Other darkspawn were gathering around, their clawed hands scratching across her leathers as she freed one arm and shoved the torch between them, burning and blinding. She slammed it's head into the rocky floor and scrambled to her feet. Tears streaming from her damaged eyes, she ran down the passage.

"_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin."_

Snarls and roars followed her, but the torch light ruined her vision; she couldn't see how far behind they were. Something hit her in the back and she stumbled, the torch spinning away. She clumsily crawled towards the light, the shadows dancing strangely. Grunting and panting were right behind her, glittering eyes watching from the shadows as the darkspawn cautiously moved towards her.

She picked up the torch and could see why the shadows were wrong: they were at the edge of a crevasse; the light too weak or the chasm too deep for her to see the bottom. She looked back at the press of foul creatures; she knew what they wanted. She didn't even dare try to take any on, for she could be easily overwhelmed and forced into a fate worse than death.

Death.

With a grim determination, she wound up and threw the torch spinning as hard as she could at the front few darkspawn. Without a sound, she stepped backwards over the ledge into darkness; Hespith's words floated down after her.

"_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."_

She woke when she hit the floor with a grunt. She lay there for a moment trying to piece together what happened; she couldn't recall falling out of bed before. A giant head loomed over the edge of the bed. "Really? You couldn't push him out of bed?" She ruffled the top of her mabari's head and was rewarded with a sloppy lick. "We're going to need a bigger bed if this is your plan." The dog smugly lay back on the pillow.

During this quiet exchange, Alistair hadn't stirred. She was glad he hadn't awoken; she didn't know if he was ready for the long days they would have coming up. She moved over to the window to open the shutters and stood there a moment just watching him sleep in the moonlight, then slipped out of the room.


	14. Chapter 14

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>The smell woke him. And the heavy breathing. Opening his eyes, Alistair went cross-eyed as he tried to focus on the two big brown eyes inches from his nose.<p>

"Well, don't you two make a lovely couple," Calitae walked into the bedroom to find her mabari and Alistair nose to nose on her pillow. The dog looked at the elf over her shoulder and yawned insolently.

Coughing, Alistair sat up, looking around in confusion, "I...when did you get up?" He yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then made a face.

"Not too long ago." She handed him a tall mug of minted water then started opening the shutters, "Wash water is in the corner unless you would prefer a bath and our breakfast is already here. Pants are on the chest."

He shook his head at the mention of the bath and scratched the mabari behind the ears, much to her delight, "Thank you, for everything, for last night. I don't think my stomach has woken up yet. How long until we leave?" Outside sounded much busier than yesterday.

"When the Dryden's heard you would be going to The Stand, they graciously pushed back departure until mid-morning, so I let you sleep in - you have an hour or so. C'mon, dog." The mabari barked happily and followed her out of the room, the door swinging shut.

A short while later, he emerged to find her checking their bundles of gear and the war dog sitting in the window seat, staring intently down into the courtyard. He leaned against the door frame, watching Calitae. "So this must be Fifth? I normally like to meet who I'm going to share a bed with first." Fifth just snorted and kept watching out the window.

Calitae stood up and tossed him an apple, "Fifth, as in the fifth pup of her litter. She's the pup of a litter mate of the ones I sent to Denerim. Did any imprint on your children?" She carved a slice of her own apple, the smell made his mouth water.

"Mmhmm, all three actually." He talked around a mouthful of the fruit, "The kennel master said it was a rare occurrence. He also didn't say that the pups were from you."

"That's because I told him not to." She watched while he quickly finished the apple and held out a plate of cheese. "Stomach not awake yet, eh?"

"How are you not hungry? This is delicious!"

She reached into a basket on the desk and started pulling out more food, "Here, sit down, wouldn't want you hitting your head when you pass out from lack of air."

"Am I ruining a picnic you planned?" He was stuffing his face as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"No, Bella packed it that way in case it made it as far as a picnic, but we both expected this."

He paused, wiping some crumbs from his beard, "Did you sleep well?"

"Up until Fifth pushed me out of bed." She spread some preserves on half of a fresh roll.

"No nightmares?" He wished he hadn't slept so soundly when he saw her hesitate then smile.

"No. It was a lovely nap."

He felt sad that she felt the need to lie to him, but played along, "Maybe I scared them away. I'm certainly willing to test it again." He grinned as she blushed.

The apartments' door opened just as the other half of her roll flew towards Alistair's head. Alesander watched as the bread bounced and landed on the floor, where Fifth immediately pounced on it. "Good to see you both so full of energy already!"

"Morning, Alder! Have some breakfast with us!" Alistair was alternating throwing berries at Calitae and popping them in his mouth, Fifth chasing after each projectile like a puppy.

"I thought you were taught to knock?" Calitae held out the plate of cheese, while swatting another airborne berry aside, "You better grab some now before he inhales it all."

"No thanks, I was just seeing if you were ready to start loading." He grabbed two of their packs.

"We need to gear up then I guess we are. C'mon, you two." She started putting what little remained of the food back into the basket. Fifth started dancing around Alesander, trying to trip him, "Fifth, try not to knock him down the stairs this time." The mabari barked happily and bolted out the door. "We'll be down in a moment, Alder." She turned back to Alistair, "This freedom is getting to your head." She caught the next berry in her mouth then took away the last of the food. "Go put your armor on."

"Armor?" He was walking to the bedroom to wash up after eating.

"I know it's not as pretty as your armor back home but you didn't think we got you all that for show, did you? Part of why we are going with the Drydens is that we're their guards. We can pick out some better equipment for you at Soldier's Peak." She walked past the plain chain mail on the stand and into the bedroom to the chest at the foot of the bed. Soon she was in a set of oily black mail with a large curved dagger and a crescent-headed axe strapped in place. Her braid was coiled in a dark hood hanging on her back.

Alistair was buckling the last of his plate into place, "I really would like to talk about telling him, some day."

She gave him a pained look as she quickly checked the buckles he couldn't reach once armored and handed him his shield and sword before walking out of the room, "Wouldn't your life have been easier if you didn't know who your father was?"

"Maybe. I doubt it though; I was still a bastard and treated as such. There would have been more questions, that's for certain. Alder is different though. And I have _three_ legitimate heirs, one of which is already seated on the throne. And their children will be in line before him. There's no denying that. Do you think he can't handle the news? Or the secret?"

She picked up the basket and grabbed another pack, her face pensive, "I understand why this is important to you. I just don't know if I'm ready. He gets a chance to grow up a little slower and a little easier than we did, no Blight to hammer it out of him, no one pointing at the king's bastard, being judged for who his parents are."

"I wish I could promise you it will all be fine, but I can't. Surely knowing two parents who love you, regardless of who they are, is better than thinking you're an orphan." He could see she was starting to cave slightly. "It doesn't have to happen right now, but maybe someday?"

"I'll think about it. Okay?" She ducked out into the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed the other bags, following her, "It's the most I can ask for."


	15. Chapter 15

BioWare owns all the goodies.

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><p>The sun was climbing in the sky; the morning mists already chased off. The courtyard was much busier than when Alistair arrived the day before. The Dryden family only had the two oxen-pulled wagons, which had already been loaded, Alesander stuffing the bags into the back of one. Half of the yard was filled with the Silvers as they were going through drills. Calitae was able to stand to the side as Alistair and Alesander helped with the last few items.<p>

"Warden." Merta had come to stand next to her.

"Healer."

"Does he know?"

Calitae gave the woman a questioning look, "Does who know what?"

Merta chuckled and adjusted her shawl, "I assume you told the king, already. Does the boy know who the king really is?"

"I don't know what you're - ," She stopped as Merta held up hand.

"Don't insult my intelligence, girl. Look at them together: they could be mirror images, if the mirror was warped and dirty." The old woman chuckled again as Calitae looked around, worried. "Don't fret, your secret is safe with me. You should tell him though; all it will take is a noble who really looks at them and does the math. It doesn't help that the songs of you and your companions are still quite popular, even now."

Calitae's shoulders slumped and she looked away as her two men started boxing with each other. "This is all going so fast, Merta. This time yesterday, only two people knew."

"So you would like to think. Unlike Harl, that Commander of the Grey you have is smarter than most realize. Just thank the Maker the foreign Wardens aren't here."

Alistair glanced over at Calitae talking to the healer and could see her face grow ashen, her tattoo becoming starkly visible. He was about to walk over when she turned suddenly and walked quickly towards the Keep. Frowning, he excused himself from his son and walked up to Merta, "What did you say to her?"

Merta gave him a somber look, "I was pointing out that your secret isn't as secret as she thought. I would suggest that you take the boy with you and let him in on it before he learns the wrong way. But I am only a simple healer, not one to tell our king of Fereldan how to go about his business." She unhooked a cloth bundle that had been hanging from her wrist, "For your travels."

Alistair took it from her and tried to peek inside, "What is it?"

She had already started walking away, "Something every young man needs when he travels."

Alesander came up next to him, and glanced at Alistair's face then at the bundle he was turning over in his hands, "What's that?" Carefully untying it, the covering revealed socks and poultices. Alder looked confused as Alistair started laughing. "Why would Merta give you socks?"

Alistair clapped his son on the shoulder and looked at the young man for a moment, "I haven't asked your, your aunt, but how would you like to come with us? At least part of the way?"

Alesander looked incredulous, "Really? You mean it? I can be ready in ten minutes, don't leave without me!" He took off running as Alistair went to beg the further indulgence of the Drydens.

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><p>Calitae was almost running by the time she got to Ventris' office, thankful he was alone when she knocked on the door. The large man sat back in his chair, the wood creaking in protest, "Tabris, I thought you would be gone by now."<p>

She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her, "I won't take up too much of your time - the merchants have already waited long enough. Merta just brought something to my attention that I thought was important."

"Oh?"

She fidgeted a moment, unsure of where to begin, "Osred, what do you know of my nephew?"

He leaned forward and pursed his lips at her use of his given name, an uncommon occurrence between the two of them, "What I know, or what I suspect?" She seemed at a loss for words, so he continued, "As I told our king, I don't care for politics, and his business is his business. That goes for you as well: your business is your business, so long as it doesn't interfere with Gray Warden business. But that also means that your business is none of those Orleasian's business, neither. So while I can't keep them from seeing what they see, they will never hear what I suspect to be the truth." He could see her visibly relax and take a breath, he wondered if she even realized she had been holding it, "If I might make a suggestion; the less time others see the two of them together, the easier it will be to keep your secret as just that. Now get out of here and leave me to my work."

She smiled with relief and at his gruffness, "Thank you, Commander, I hope you know that your being here brings me peace of mind." He only grunted as he turned back to his papers, as if he had used up all of his words for the day.

Back in the courtyard she found the wagons had already started rolling out, but they were slow and would be easy to catch up with. Alistair was to one side watching the Silvers, and surprisingly Alesander was still there - normally they said their goodbyes the night before and that was that. When she stepped outside, Alistair thanked the drill captain and the two men fell in step with her; her son was practically beaming.

"You walking us to the outer road?" She realized he was back in his hybrid of robe and chain mail along with the one-handed short staff and the lightweight Antivan sword with the long narrow blade she had found him on one of her trips.

"Nope! I'm coming to Soldier's Peak with you – Alistair asked me to!"

She caught herself and blinked, "You're...a grown man and so is he, and I am not the only one that makes decisions around here." She leveled her gaze on Alistair, who mouthed 'Merta' at her and shrugged. Not in a position to inquire, she smiled at Alesander, "I'm sorry I didn't ask you myself, I thought you had plans."

"I did, but there's no way I'm going to pass up traveling with the king!"

She laughed, "I can't say I blame you." Her words won her a tender smile from Alistair and her heart skipped a beat.

Soon, Alder and Fifth were running ahead and off the path with boundless energy. Alistair watched them go, "We have a lot to talk about."

She nodded, "We do, but let's just enjoy this for now. It won't always be this easy, but...I'm glad you're here." She gave him a wide smile as she blushed slightly.

"I know, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

They walked on a while in comfortable silence, gaining on the wagon train. Alistair could hardly pull his eyes off of her as she expertly picked through the foliage on the side of the road for potential ingredients.

"So...tell me about these almost marriages." He was looking at her with an innocent expression.

"You pledged to spend the rest of your days with me and _that's_ what you want to start with?"

He carefully side-stepped to put more distance between them, "I suddenly get the feeling I should be happy we're in the middle of a field."

She didn't look at him but smirked as she nodded at the distant peaks they were headed for, "Keep walking, warden."

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>I hope you all have enjoyed my story. Definitely much nicer than what my game gave me, even if it did take 20 years to get there.  
>Again, feedbackcorrections are welcome.

**PS: **I suck at ending anything. I have actually finished speeches with "like, yeah." And I'm happy to leave this here, but some encouraging feedback has caused a little bit more to percolate. When fully brewed, be sure to check back!


	16. Chapter 16

All rights to BioWare

**A/N:** This chapter hasn't been through the same wringer as the previous ones, so apologies in advance if I've missed something, please let me know. Otherwise enjoy. :)

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><p>With Firstfall coming, Funalis was in full force painting the countryside in her seasonal colors: rich reds and bright oranges, joyful yellows and the evergreens. The evenings were getting chilly but during the day it was a comfortable temperature. They were hoping to make it to Soldier's Peak before the mountain road became too mired in the snows.<p>

The first night of setting camp in the dying light, Calitae tossed a bedroll and a small tent at Alistair. She noticed the look he gave her, somewhere between disappointment and resignation. She put a hand on her hip and met his look with a raised eyebrow.

He sighed, "I know, it's just -" He stepped over to her, standing close enough that she had to resist the urge to step backwards. "You probably think I'm a dog and a hypocrite, no insult to your mabari." The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepened as he nodded towards Fifth who was stalking some unsuspecting creature at the side of the road.

Calitae merely blinked in acknowledgement, "You _are_ still married. You're the one who made it very clear that you couldn't share me, even though there wasn't anything serious going on between Zev and I, and here you are asking me to do that very thing with you."

He gave her a crooked grin, hoping to alleviate the tension slightly, "If I remember correctly, it took you three days to apologize for how you reacted. Those were a bad three days."

She rolled her eyes and blushed slightly, "And it took _you_ another day to apologize for how you took my apology.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, accept another apology from me. I just want to be with you, however you feel comfortable. Just try not to hurt me too badly if I sometimes forget."

She laughed and shook her head, "You get first watch, how about that? Wake me up when it's my turn."

"Oh, I think I can manage."

That first night when he wasn't walking around the edge of the camp, he would sit where he could watch her sleep. He knew she was tired, so when it came time for her shift, he quietly woke Alder instead. The young man was confused at first, but happy to do his part when Alistair explained.

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><p>"Tae, wake up. Breakfast is ready and Meron says we roll out shortly."<p>

Calitae groaned and rolled over, groggy until she realized it was morning, "What? Don't tell me you tried to stay awake all night out of some sense of chilvalry." She scowled as she rubbed some warmth into her arms.

He held out of steaming cup of thick tea, chuckling, "No, I'm too old to be staying up all night. Alder took your shift when I told him you were finally sleeping. Merta said you needed rest."

She grunted her thanks as she sat cross legged on her bedroll, mornings never were her best time of day. Alistair squatted at the mouth of her tent, "I was thinking there's no reason to not have Alder share in all the duties. He may not be a Warden, but he's still capable and did his fair share of training with Silvers and Wardens at Vigil."

She looked at him over the top of her mug, sipping the hot liquid, "Mmm. Greenies get the middle shift."

"My thoughts exactly!"

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><p>They soon fell into a routine; the three of them would rotate between two leading point on the caravan and one bringing up the rear, allowing time for Alistair and Calitae to be together as well as father and son to continue their lively discussions. She would always smile when she could hear their voices drifting back to her, mage versus templar. While the Circle had relaxed minutely under Alistair's influence, the mages still had to deal with the stigma and fear and the accompanying watchful eye of the Templars.<p>

Several of the merchants were proficient with a bow, so their evening meals were always augmented with fresh meat. After the meal, they would game with the merchants or spar with each other, partially to help push Alistair back into fighting form, but mostly for the joy of being able to put their skill to use. Calitae was by far the superior fighter, but Alistair quickly dusted off his abilities and Alder's unusual style would often present a challenge. Given the same twenty years his parents had, he would be quite formidable.

Calitae would often take third watch, mostly to give herself time to wake up before dealing with people. One night she woke up early and was surprised to hear low voices talking by their fire. Alistair apparently hadn't gone to sleep yet. She was about to get up when she paused at Alder's voice.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what's with you and my aunt?"

She could hear Alistair cough followed by a thumping noise, as if he had choked and Alder was hitting his back, "Uh, how do you mean?"

"Tell me if I'm overstepping here, but you're king. Yet you're here. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this for the world and Cal definitely seems in a better mood. But you're married. One would have to be blind to not see the looks you give her."

She strained to hear Alistair mutter, "Blind or her." His voice drifted from above her, as if he had gotten up; she pretended like she was asleep. "She never told you about our past?"

"More like what she didn't say. She would tell me of your battles together. But unlike the rest of your companions, she rarely spoke of you. Some times Oghren would start to say something but would pass out before he'd tell me more."

Alistair's voice moved about some more, she guessed he was pacing again, "I, uh, guess you could say we were close. But I had a duty to Ferelden, so we parted ways after the Blight. Not very amicably, I might add."

"And now?" Calitae was curious why Alder was pressing.

Alistair chuckled, "I count myself fortunate to have the same number of holes in me as when I left Denerim." His voice lowered, serious again, "I still care for her a great deal, I lo- Fifth! What are you doing? Stop that!"

He was interrupted by the mabari pawing at the foot of Calitae's bedroll, pulling the blanket off her. She didn't realize she had been concentrating so hard to hear what Alistair was saying that the wardog took her by surprise and she let out a quiet yelp. Sitting up, she gave her best confused look and stuck her head out the tent. "I guess Fifth has decided it's my turn to stand watch. Alistair, shouldn't you be asleep by now?"

She couldn't help but notice the relieved look on his face as he retreated, "Right. Yes. Headed there now. Good night!"

Fifth was bouncing around her like an untrained pup, "What's gotten into you tonight? Getting a little stir-crazy even on the road? Go on then, no barking until daylight." In a blur, Fifth was lost in the darkness. Shaking her head, she went for a stroll around the camp. She expected Alder to have disappeared by the time she finished her loop, but he was still sitting at their fire, working on his latest carving. Sitting down, she watched him work.

She realized he had been waiting for Alistair to fall asleep when they heard the soft snores coming from his nearby tent. Alder held up the carving, "What do you think?" It was the likenesses of her and Alistair in relief.

She smiled, proudly, "I think that you should give up this whole fighting business and go become a scholar in the Chantry, they could use an artist like you. Maybe find yourself a noble patron and grow fat and wealthy while decorating their latest palace."

He grinned at her familiar argument, pleased with the sincere praise. As he put his tools away, he gave her an innocent look, "So are you going to be Alistair's mistress?"

She was wondering how he would approach her turn, but she wasn't expecting quite that blunt. Taken off-guard, she stammered defensively, "I- I hardly think that's an appropriate question."

He grinned mischievously, "Sure it is! If I'm going to be travelling with you two, I need to know if I need to make myself scarce or not."

She covered her face with her hand, "Andraste save me. I'm going to get some water for breakfast." She was making her way to the nearby stream when he fell in step next to her, skipping and looking altogether too pleased with himself, "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"

He shrugged, "Not tired. It's more fun to see the calm, cool, collected 'Hero of Ferelden' get all flustered."

"You are such an imp."

"Admit it; you're happy he's here."

"So what if I am?"

"So maybe stop being so gruff and condescending at him?"

She paused and frowned at him, he seemed sincere, "I'm gruff to everyone, or so I'm told."

"Yeah, but you're worse to him. You're like the younger apprentices at the Tower, soon you'll be leaving a toad in his bedroll and he'll be putting mud in your hair."

She laughed at the thought and flicked his ear affectionately, "I thought the mages were supposed to keep you sheltered. When did you learn so much?"

He ducked as he grabbed one of the buckets from her and danced ahead, "At least it's better than you two making kissy faces at each other." He crossed his eyes and demonstrated the face at her before darting ahead.

She watched his disappearing back as she contemplated throwing the other bucket at him.


	17. Chapter 17

insert golden props to BioWare here

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><p>They had turned towards Highever from the North Road, and started to make the climb westward towards the labyrinth of caves at the base of Soldier's Peak. The weather so far had been good, and if it stayed clear, they would reach their destination late the next evening.<p>

The group made camp with efficiency and soon dinner was heating over the campfire. Alistair found Calitae in only her leathers, stringing a menacing longbow. He admired the form-fitting outfit briefly then sat on the log next to her, "Going somewhere?"

She stood up, slinging the bow across her back, shrugging until it lay comfortably next to a small quiver. She had had the dragonthorn bow made specifically for her size and strength and he knew the damage she could cause with it. "Hunting." She gestured towards the south to the wooded foothills, "I won't be long, it gets dark early enough."

He stood up, reaching to unbuckle his plate armor, "I'll come with you."

She smiled and tucked her gloves in her belt, "No, someone needs to stay here."

"Alder will be here. I - ."

She began stuffing a small sack with supplies as Meron Dryden, Levi's nephew, walked up, interrupting Alistair, "Ah, wardens! We were wondering if you would be interested in joining us for a game of chance tonight. Last one of the trip!"

She finished securing the sack to her belt and checked her knife, "That answers that – Alistair will join you. Don't lose all our money, and watch out for Sivan, he cheats." She grinned at Alistair and gave him a wink.

Alistair spread his hands, giving her an insistent and questioning look before turning to the merchant, "I guess I'll be joining you. Tae, be safe." He looked troubled and more than a little irritated. The burly caravan master just chuckled at their exchange.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and stepped back before he could grab her, "Don't fret, I'll have Fifth with me." At the mention of her name, the mabari came bounding out of the bushes, tongue lolling happily.

Without a backwards glance, the pair jogged southward for the distant tree line. Alistair watched for a moment but the scrub brush swallowed them up and he had little choice but to seek out the source of shouts and laughter at the main campfire.

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><p>The pair had been unable to find any fowl or other small game by the time they reached a dense stand of trees. Calitae glanced at the sky, the sun was sinking fast, but Fifth seemed quietly intent on leading her forward. When the dog dropped to her belly and started inching forward, Calitae unslung her bow, nocked an arrow and followed in suit.<p>

After a few minutes of slowly pushing aside fallen leaves to crawl forward in silence, they were rewarded with the sight of a medium-sized black bear snuffling at a berry-laden bush. She admired its thick coat of fur as she slowly stood up, using a tree to shield her movement.

Drawing back, she steadied her breath and looked down the shaft of the arrow. Fifth was as still as a statue; she never understood how a wardog was so adept at the finesse of game hunting, but she wasn't going to complain. Twilight was beginning to fall as elf and dog stood frozen in place as they waited for the bear to turn in a way to offer a clean shot. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the strain of holding the draw and she was about to give up when finally she had the shot.

The string gave a low hum as the arrow hissed through the air; the bear roared in pain and anger as the arrow passed behind its front shoulder. She frowned as she shook out her arm, it had looked like a perfect shot, and hopefully it would bleed out fast. They backed up as the animal roared and stumbled around, rising on its back feet and dropping back down to all fours again, showing no sign of weakening. She nocked another arrow and moved sideways away from Fifth, hoping to expedite the process.

Her movement caught the bear's eye and in a flash the bear was suddenly bolting towards her. "Maker guide me," she muttered and let loose the next arrow but it only glanced off its thick skull; the next heartbeat she was sprinting. She tossed aside her bow, dropped her quiver and was reaching for her knife when it ran her down. The wind was knocked out of her as she was crushed into the ground. Dazed, she could hear Fifth barking as pain exploded through her body, the bear tore at her back and hip with its' claws before biting down on her left shoulder. Its breath was loud in her ear as it shook her, its teeth digging deeper as it tried to tear her in two. Yelling in pain and fear, she drew her blade and blindly stabbed over her shoulder at the black muzzle.

Surprised at the pain in its nose, the bear dropped her back to the ground as it roared again loudly; Fifth took the opportunity to launch herself at the bear's throat. Calitae whimpered and tried to pull herself away with her one working arm. As she pulled herself into a sitting position slumped against a tree, the bears growls suddenly became a wheezing gurgle. Through the haze of pain she could see the form of the bear laying still and Fifth was at her side, whining and licking the blood away as it oozed through the punctures in her armor.

Gasping, Calitae gingerly probed the wound; her collarbone didn't seem to be broken but she was having trouble moving the fingers of her left hand. Her hip also was throbbing with pain from where the bear had stomped on her and her back felt wet. She leaned her head back against the tree trunk, "Alistair is going to be insufferable." With some effort, she shifted to reach the sack of supplies. At the bottom of the bag she found a scrap of parchment paper and using her blood as ink, she scratched a quick note onto it then tucked it in Fifth's collar. "Go find Alder, bring him to me. Good girl."

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><p><strong>Edit:<strong> wrong Al_


	18. Chapter 18

**Big thanks to BioWare for creating such awesome worlds & characters**

**A/N**: Sorry for the super long delay. Hardly intentional, and I blame some of it on BioWare for making ME2 ;)  
>Mostly this chapter fought me tooth and nail. I was hoping to post 2 chapters at once to speed things up, but Chapter 19 is almost as stubborn as 18.<br>As always, comments/suggestions/criticisms are welcome.

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><p>"Three dots, give the man his money!" The men gathered around the fire shouted with enthusiasm as Alistair won another bet against Sivan. "Are ya goin' ta give 'im another chance ta – hey now! Wot's this?"<p>

They were interrupted as Fifth burst into the group, tackling Alder to the ground, scattering the coins and game pieces into the dirt. Surprise turned to confusion as the firelight revealed blood on the dog's muzzle and chest. Alistair felt like he had been dropped into an icy river when he saw a bloody handprint smeared on the mabari's back.

Fifth had Alder pinned to the ground with two paws firmly planted on his chest; she kept barking loudly and hopping, each time she landed, he winced and groaned as he tried to push her off. "Alister, a little help, if you would?"

Alistair grabbed the mabari's collar, cursing as the spikes bit into his hands; it took his full strength to pull the dog back long enough for Alder to regain his feet. "Does she normally behave like this? Where's Tae?" The mage just shook his head as he dusted off his clothes, trying to catch his breath. Alistair grunted as she tried to lunge again, he was thankful she wasn't fully grown yet, "There's something tucked in the collar, see if you can grab it before she goes at you again."

"It's…a note." He wheezed and doubled over, one hand on his knee, the other hand holding the paper out to Alistair, "Here."

"You going to live? Fifth, stay down." He released the mabari, who began licking Alder's face, to scan the note, "Andraste's ass." He took a calming breath as he ran a hand over his face; all he wanted to do was to run into the darkness and find her. He realized the caravan's men had gathered around them, "Seems our lady has gone and bagged a bear, getting hurt in the process. Are any of you able to field dress a bear decently?"

Sivan nodded and gestured to one of his cousins, "Hyam and I have done deer and boar, but a bear can't be much different, eh?"

Alistair nodded, "Good enough, you both and another go gather whatever you need." He turned to his son, who seemed to have recovered, "You know any healing magics?"

"Anders made me learn the basics because of her. She has a habit of forgetting the pointy ends go in the other guy."

"I tried to teach her to use a shield. Obviously, it didn't take. Go get your stuff. That bag of poultices Merta gave me is in the back of the wagon."

Alder turned to go, and paused, "What about you?" He could see Alistair's hands repetitively balling into fists and relaxing.

Alistair set his jaw, frowning slightly, "I…She promised our services to guard the caravan. So I shall stay here." He gestured at the younger man, "Go. We don't know how bad she is."

"I'll bring her back, I promise."

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><p>It felt like an eternity since the four men had followed Fifth into the darkness; Alistair had stared after them, until the wisps' glow was no longer visible. He needed to find something to keep busy; turning, he found Meron patiently standing next to him, a mean looking club hanging from the merchant's belt.<p>

"She'll be fine. She always is."

"Right. I know. I hope so, anyways."

"I didn't want to contradict you earlier, but you didn't need to stay. We're far enough from the main roads to not attract any attention. We're also close enough to the Peak, that the bandits know she'll punish anyone doing banditry and whatnot."

Alistair just looked at the man, through sheer force of will kept his hands and face still.

The caravan master continued, seemingly oblivious, "Anyways, I'm glad you stayed. I sent the rest to bed, since the rest of us will be dead on our feet tomorrow. Need an able-bodied man to help prepare." Meron held out a flask, "Brandy? From my personal collection."

The warden took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue; it was like the finest silk in liquid form. "Now that is a fine drink. What do you need me to do?" He passed back the flask.

Meron went over to each wagon and rummaged around in the boxes under the seats, pulling out large bundles of canvas and coils of rope. "Here. Refill us on water, get some boiling, and then find a place away from camp to hang the bear off the ground, large canvas and ropes to bundle it up. Use the smaller canvas by your fire to give us a clean place to put Cal." He nodded at the disturbed campsite, "Feel free to take some torches for more light. I'll get everyone packed up and tucked in so they won't be dead on their feet tomorrow and clear spots in my wagons for bear and her."

Meron moved about the camp like a small storm, herding his remaining men to their tents, cleaning up the spilled game pieces, clearing a space on one wagon to fit the injured warden if she couldn't walk. Alistair helped him in moving some of the larger cargo. Soon, too soon, all that was left was to wait. Meron disappeared to his own tent, with instructions to be woken if there was something he could help with.

The moon was climbing into the cold, cloudless sky. Alistair had pulled a blanket around his shoulders as he patrolled – paced - the length of the camp. He had paused to watch the sparks from the fire swirl and dance into nothingness, wishing he had a hobby like Alder's to keep his hands and mind occupied, debating about shaving off his beard just to do _something_, when he heard a dog barking in the distance. Looking towards the south he could see a glow slowly growing larger. He tossed the blanket aside and pushed through the brush towards them.

He first met Sivan and Hyam dragging the carcass of the bear behind them. They looked dirty and tired, but in good spirits. Fifth ran up, barked in greeting, and then raced back towards Alder with his precious cargo.

"Ah, Alistair. She's alive, they're right behind us. We'll be feasting on bear tomorrow night!"

Relieved, Alistair chuckled and gestured to the west, "We set up an area for you to hang the bear. I'll be right behind you."

"Don't worry about it; we've got this. See to the lady." Sivan nodded over his shoulder

"There's water warmed by your fire if you wanted to wash up before you go to sleep."

"You're a king among men, ser!" Hyam snorted loudly at his own joke. Sivan just rolled his eyes and leaned into the harness, giving Hyam no choice but to help or be dragged.

Alder and Gerick were close behind, following the path that the first pair broke through the brush. Alder wearily nodded at Alister as he pushed by; Calitae seemed barely conscious, her eyes were unfocused and beneath the blood and dirt, she was even more pale than usual.

Alder spoke over his shoulder, "Hold up, Gerick. Set her down." Fifth began to lick her mistress's cheek. "Alistair, you take my spot and Gerick go on ahead. Thank you." Gerick headed towards the soldier's side of the camp carrying the bundle of Calitae's weapons. Alder rubbed his arms as he moved to take the merchant's place. "She got mauled on her back and shoulder, plus the usual cuts and scrapes. She lost a lot of blood; I managed to stop the bleeding. Probably needs stitches."

Alistair brushed aside her hair to look at a long and shallow cut that ran from her temple to jaw, "She's burning up." He peeled back her collar to see how badly her shoulder was, but even in the wisp-light all he could see was a thick layer of congealing blood. He stood back up, moving to the front of the stretcher, "I can't tell how bad it is. Should we take her to Highever? They should have a full healer."

Alder just chuckled, lifting his end, "Not if you want to be alive when she recovers."

"What do you mean?"

Alder's amused voice floated forward, "I don't know the details, but the last time she went back she was fairly adamant that she would never return. She was quite angry; pretty sure I heard something about 'flaying the red-headed mule alive' and 'over her dead body'. Since then, if it was important, Warden-Commander Ventris would attend them."

Arriving in the camp, the pair of men shed their armor and gathered supplies. Kneeling to either side of her they found a pair of brown eyes watching them solemnly, squinting slightly against the pain.

"Tae! Maker's blessings, you're awake!" Alistair couldn't help himself, "What were you _thinking_? You said you would be careful!"

"A bear tried to eat me, I assure you it was quite unintentional." Her voice was low, as if she was trying to hold perfectly still but she still pinned him with a hard look, "Take me to Highever and you'll wish that Duncan never rescued me." She shifted her focus to Alder, "How bad am I really?" Alder went down the list of her injuries and she nodded slightly. "Bring my green and black pouches, the brown roll of tools, two mortars and pestle, drinkable water." She noticed Alistair's questioning expression as he started to wring out a cloth, dabbing at the mess of her shoulder. "You're going to have to clean the wounds, that's going to feel…unpleasant, plus we need to get my fever down."

He nodded, working in silence for a moment, "When you're better, I going to be very angry at you." She could hear the frustration in his voice. The water quickly turned pink as he rinsed out the cloth.

"I still have one good arm, I can take you." She started to giggle then winced.

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, "How did you let a bear catch you?"

She tilted her head in a shrug, "Maybe Sivan can tell you, it was a perfect shot; should have dropped much faster. Maybe I just got impatient, took a long time to line it up, my arms were killing me." Her eyes flicked around, landing on the bundle Gerick left by her tent, "My knife should be in there."

Alder came back then, his arms full of her requested items, "For what?" Kneeling on her other side, he began opening the pouches revealing bundles of roots, packets of powders and leaves, and an array of sharp looking tools, each with a different colored handle.

Her lower lip jutted out slightly into a pout, "To cut my leathers."

Alistair found her knife and alternated dabbing the blood and peeling away the shell of leather and cloth lining as he cut further down her arm, revealing a sleeve of dried blood from ear to finger tip. Calitae hissed through her teeth as her damaged skin was pulled at.

To keep her mind off his ministrations, she began directing Alder into mixing up two draughts, using the different tools and mortars to keep from cross-contamination; one a heavily diluted deathroot extract to dull the pain, and the other a mix of elfroot and fire crystal powder to counter the fever and help healing. Once she choked back both mixes, she quickly described the antidote of the deathroot extract, just in case she had guessed her dosage incorrectly.

As Calitae's eyelids fluttered close, Alder gave Alistair a flat look, "I know she's been dabbling with poisons longer than I've been alive, but doesn't it seem just a little wrong to be using poison for healing?"

Alistair wordlessly held out the knife, hilt-first, for his son to begin working on her other injuries.


	19. Chapter 19

**All property belongs to BioWare. **

**A/N**: okay, battle is over. I think I won. Hopefully you all will agree ^_^

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><p>It had been a long night.<p>

The two men had agreed to leave stitches for when they arrived at the Peak, instead just scrubbing each cut with soap and lots of water followed by a liberal dousing of whiskey. Alistair's arms burned with how much water he had ended up carrying; Alder had ended up creating a make-shift moat and run-off for all the water to keep from damaging the camp for future travelers. They packed each break in her skin with Merta's poultices, and then dragged their bedrolls over to stay on either side of her. Even though more than an hour had passed since she had taken the diluted poison, Alder was still concerned and wanted to be close by – Alistair just wanted to be near her.

Now the caravan was on the last part of their journey: the steep path between the maze of caves and old mines and the actual fortress itself. The oxen strained against their loads as the merchants prodded them along; Alder was trailing behind, rearming the extra traps for the winter and hiding the caravan's passageway. Alistair walked next to the wagon that Calitae was wedged into. She had woken briefly before the entered the tunnels, sweating from the fever and pain. Alder was hard-pressed from keeping her from drinking too much of her concoction.

As they rounded the last switch back, Alistair's eyes widened as he took in the old warden fortress for the first time since before the Blight's end; it hardly looked like the same place. With the growing business and families of the Drydens, outbuildings had overtaken the yard. To one side was a barn and paddock for the oxen and other various livestock they kept for supplies over the winter. Alistair was sure he could hear chickens nearby.

The stonework of the keep had been repaired and cleaned up, the walls were straight and proud, no signs of age visible through the curtain of deep green ivy that softened the look of the keep. He looked around and noticed plants everywhere, splashes of greens and yellows caught his eye. The tower still sat like a guard dog over-looking the area, but even it appeared as if it had been given a makeover.

He glanced at the slumbering figure of his fellow warden; she had finally lapsed into a deeper sleep instead of the fitful tossing noticeable even with the wagons' lurching movement up the hills. "I think I like what you've done with the place." He murmured as he squeezed her hand before tucking it back under the blanket. It had finally started snowing after threatening clouds had moved in overnight.

Alder glanced over from the far side of the wagon, and grinned.

Alistair caught the look, "Are you going to explain why you are smiling like that or just leave me in suspense? It's not something mushy or sappy is it?" He gave the mage a sideways look.

"Hardly. I was just thinking it's a good thing she's comatose or chances are I'd have to listen to you two arguing. She makes a lousy patient. Can't say I'm not happy to have someone else to deal with her."

"Well, if it gets too bad, I'll just walk to Highever and find a proper healer."

"In the snow?" Alder raised his eyebrows in a mischievous look.

Alistair maintained a deadpan expression, "Yes, and uphill both ways!"

"Well, at least you'll have your boots."

The men's laughing was interrupted as Fifth suddenly streaked past them for the keep's yard, barking happily to announce their arrival. Half a dozen small children appeared in a squealing crowd around Fifth, who seemed quite content being the center of such adoration. Men of all ages were appearing from the houses, pulling on gloves and jackets to help with the unloading. A teenage boy ran to the barn to open the doors for the oxen as they pulled the wagons alongside a pair of doors set into the ground.

Alder started hanging all their bags off his back and arms, until he was lost under the load. Alistair gently picked up the sleeping elf, cradling her against his chest. They began picking their way across the yard and up the front stairs, mindful of the thin layer of snow accumulating over everything.

The large front doors opened to reveal an angular woman and two girls, who barely seemed teenagers yet. Alistair assumed they were her daughters from the way the woman hovered over them protectively and how they all shared the same hair color. She watched Alistair suspiciously as she pushed the girls behind her, he was sure she would have pushed him backwards down the stairs if she hadn't noticed who he was carrying with a dismissive glance.

"Who are you?"

A voice floated from behind the moving pile of bags, "Beulah, I am honored to introduce you to Alistair Theirin, senior Grey Warden of Ferelden. Alistair, this is Beulah, matron of the keep, wife to Meron, and a most wonderful cook. We would all be lost without her." There was no mistaking the smile in his voice.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Alesander." Despite her words, the woman looked pleased before turning her hawkish glare back on Alistair. "Theirin, eh? Like the king?"

Alistair stood a little straighter under the scrutiny, knowing he must be a sight after so many days on the road. "The one and the same. Thank you for opening your home to us." He made a mental note to ask about this woman who clearly felt the keep was hers.

She considered his words, but didn't seem to thaw, "Hmph. Well, don't expect anything special here. Don't stand out there all day. Girls, help Alesander." The girls had been shyly peeking around their mother, watching the stranger. After a moment of juggling, Alder had been relieved of the two lightest bags and soon they were following the pair.

"Alistair, these are the two most beautiful flowers in all of the Coastlands, Chanah and Shaina." This elicited charming giggles from both girls as they hurried ahead, whispering to each other. Alistair chuckled, reminded of his own daughter and her friends, when she could be separated from her twin.

Then he realized where they were headed as they made their way through the halls. "The tower?" He sounded pensive.

"After Avernus died, the dwarves tore it down and rebuilt it completely," He paused to adjust his hold on the bags, "At the time, the Dryden's were packed in here, standing room only it felt like, but Levi still refused to have any of his family move in. So the bottom floor is storage for everyone. We share a workshop on the second floor, my room is above that, and she took the top floor."

"Top floor. Why am I not surprised?" He adjusted his hold on Calitae, careful not to bump her injuries, and began to climb the stairs. The shifting was enough for her to wake with a grimace, her eyes seemed clearer that that morning.

She glanced around, disorientated for a moment at the strange movement then realized she was being carried; instinctively, she reached out to hold his neck, her groan in pain quickly turning to a growl. He had stopped when he realized she was awake, and was met with a point-blank scowl. "Hey! How are you feeling?"

She cursed then muttered, "Like I have been run over by a stampede of halla." She wouldn't be surprised if she looked in a mirror and was bruise from head to toe. She certainly felt like it.

"You know these bags aren't getting any lighter." Alder's voice came from lower on the stairs, prompting Alistair to keep climbing.

Meron's daughters stopped on the landing outside of Alder's room. Chanah, the older one, noticed Calitae was awake, and stood on her tip-toes so she could see the elf's face, "Welcome back, Ser Tabris." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Shaina blurted out, obviously the more outgoing of the two, "What's wrong with you?" She leaned on her sister, and then wrinkled her nose, "You smell!"

"Shaina!" Chanah looked horrified.

Alistair did his best to smother the laughter, but couldn't help it as a snicker escaped. Alder coincidentally was struck by a coughing fit as he pushed by into his room. He was met with an icy look. "What? You do smell. Like…bear breath!" He was once against struck at how feline she could look. "It's probably your leathers. They were soaked in blood and dirt then we soaked them while cleaning your wounds." He finished lamely.

Smoothing her face with effort, she looked at the girls trying to stifle giggles in reaction to Alistair, "Thank you, Chanah. Shaina, I was hurt while hunting a bear. You can leave the bags here." They set the bags on the floor next to the door and ran down the stairs.

Alder stuck his head out of his room, "I'll find you a wash basin, don't worry. And we still need to do those stitches. Alistair, I'll set up a bed in here if you want?"

The angry cat look returned his gaze flatly, "Yes, that would be appreciated, I think." He continued to the top floor as she pointedly ignored him.


End file.
